


We Move to the Same Rhythm

by samann98



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Awkward Derek, Bottom Derek, Boyd is supportive as well, Dancer Stiles, Fluff, Jock Derek, Lydia is a queen, Multi, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Derek, Scott is an awesome and supportive bro, Sexual Content, Some angst, Top Stiles, and he's also smart, but also Dancer Derek, but still fluffy, no Kate Argent, probably, so sorry if it's awful, switching POVs, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samann98/pseuds/samann98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is the cocky captain of the basketball team with a not-so-secret love of dance and Stiles is the leader of the school’s struggling dance team.  With Stiles' dance team, Spin Cycle, on the verge of being disbanded, Lydia suggests they bring in some new members.  Stiles agrees, until she suggests Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not on the Same Beat

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off a Tumblr prompt I posted and then decided to try and fill myself. Yikes! The rating might go up for future chapters but I haven't decided yet. I apologize in advance for any and all spelling and grammar mistakes.

Stiles Stilinski releases a loud, drawn-out yawn, resisting the urge to pass out in the middle of his advanced chemistry class. He was up late the night before working on a new routine for his dance troupe, Spin Cycle, to try out in practice this afternoon. Running on barely four hours of sleep, Stiles can’t be blamed for nearly falling asleep during class, especially when it’s advanced chemistry, but he had to get that routine ironed out because with regionals only two months away it’s make-or-break time for Stiles and the rest of his squad.

Stiles joined Beacon Hills’ High School’s dance group, Spin Cycle, his freshman year. He’d been dancing since before he was born; his mom, Claudia Stilinski, told him he’d moved around in her stomach for almost the entire length of her pregnancy and took to calling him her little hoofer while he was still in her belly. The nickname stuck and so did Stiles’ love of dance. He was enrolled in classes by the time he turned two and over the years has learned many different styles of dance including jazz, tap, contemporary, and hip-hop. Stiles’ dad, Sheriff John Stilinski, has always supported his son’s dancing, making sure to find time to make it to most of his dance recitals and competitions. The ones he couldn’t get to, he’d watch video of taken by his wife in the early years and Melissa McCall in the later years.

Stiles had heard so many good things about Spin Cycle even before he got to Beacon Hills’ High that he was desperate to join as soon as he could. Initially when he’d first started out on the dance team, there were junior and varsity squads, but over the past three years, Spin Cycle’s membership has dwindled, leaving the team with only six members and Stiles as the captain of a squad who has only placed in one competition in the last two years. Though excitement and support for Spin Cycle has diminished, Stiles’ love of dance is still just as strong as ever. He promised his mother, no matter how much it pained him to do so, that he’d never give up on it, even if it meant long practices and many hours spent training and working on routines.

Those long hours have finally caught up with the young man. As he’s sitting, attempting to listen to his teacher drone on about Thermodynamics and Newton’s Method, Stiles’ eyes drift closed and he starts to snore softly. His head lolls back and he’s dangerously close to braining himself on the table behind him if not for the elbow to the ribcage he receives from his best friend in the entire world, Scott McCall bringing him back to consciousness.

Stiles and Scott met on their first day at Beacon Hills’ Preschool. Jackson Whittemore had broken Scott’s toy, on purpose no doubt at least that’s what Stiles always assumed, and Scott being the perfect angel that he is, didn’t even tell their teacher what Jackson did. He just sat at the table with tears in his eyes and a broken action figure in his hands. Stiles, having seen what happened, decided it was only fair to defend Scott’s honor.

So during recess, Stiles ran right up to Jackson and pushed him into a puddle of mud, proclaiming, “That’s for breaking Scott’s toy, you meanie.” Jackson yelled that his father would hear about this and make him pay for it, but Stiles just rolled his eyes and threw an arm around Scott’s shoulder, leading him over to the swing sets. Once they were seated in their swings, rocking back and forth in perfect sync, Scott had stared at him in quiet awe and disbelief before his face broke into a huge grin and he declared that Stiles was now his best friend. They’ve been joined at the hip ever since.

Stiles jerks back to attention just in time for their teacher, self-proclaimed Satan himself, Mr. Harris’ gaze to fall on him. The older man glares at Stiles over the top of his glasses as he asks, “Mr. Stilinski, are you paying attention or is my lecture on a topic that will be included on a test worth 50% of your grade boring you?”

Stiles snorts and almost considers blurting out the truth, that no, he wasn’t paying attention, and yes, he’s bored out of his mind, but thinks better of it. He knows if he says anything like that to Harris he’d end up in detention for the rest of the week. Hell, he’s gotten detention from Harris for less, and Stiles can’t afford to spend his afternoons in a classroom with a teacher he hates when he has more important business to attend to like getting his team ready for regionals.

So instead of mouthing off like the little shit he usually is, Stiles puts on his best innocent face and responds, “Of course not, Mr. Harris. You have such a way with words; you could never bore me.”

Beside him, Scott has to cough several times to cover up his laughter. Across the room, Lydia Martin mutters a quiet, “Seriously?”, Allison Argent and Kira Yukimura bury their faces in their arms to hide their smiles, and Danny Mahealani shakes his head with a roll of his eyes usually reserved for Stiles when he does something stupid which is most of the time. Mr. Harris doesn’t comment any further, to Stiles’ immediate relief, but does give him a rather bored expression before carrying on with his lecture. Stiles and Scott grin at each other, and Stiles can’t help feeling pleased with himself and his awesome friends; they’re an unlikely group, and some might wonder how they ever became close, but for whatever reason they work.

Initially Stiles and Scott started off on their own; two best friends with only the other to count on. Stiles had been surprised to learn that Scott shared his interest in dance. Though he hasn’t been trained like Stiles, Scott is naturally gifted, picking up complicated moves just as quickly as Stiles and sometimes even quicker than him. When the boys got to high school and joined Spin Cycle, they met Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, and Danny Mahealani. Stiles was immediately taken with Lydia the first time he saw her strawberry blond hair and gazed into her green eyes. He knew he was a goner the moment she spoke and began spouting facts about numerical analysis and how she was working on her own complicated theorem and would be employed by NASA before she turned 25.

His infatuation with Lydia only got worse when Stiles saw her dance; Lydia had been taking ballet classes since she first started walking and had already turned down offers from several famous dance companies. “Dancing’s fun, but it’s a hobby,” she told the group, “how am I supposed to win a Fields’ Medal if I’m too busy touring with the Los Angeles Ballet Company?” Eventually as time passed Stiles realized that he was in love with the idea of Lydia and not the young woman herself, and she’s become one of his closest friends and his second-in-command in Spin Cycle.

Allison Argent is Lydia’s best friend and if Stiles’ crush on Lydia had been bad, it couldn’t even compare to Scott’s feelings for Allison. Scott was immediately attracted to Allison’s flowing long hair, dark eyes, dimpled smile, and good nature. Allison’s contemporary style is a sight to behold, and she’s one of the reasons why the name Spin Cycle fits the group so well with her ability to complete several beautiful fouette turns in a row without breaking a sweat. Allison and Scott dated until junior year when they grew apart and realized they’d be better off as friends.

That same year Kira Yukimura moved to Beacon Hills and impressed Stiles and the crew with her hip-hop dancing. Her beauty and kind smile also managed to catch Scott’s eye and the pair started dating in the spring of junior year. The last member of Spin Cycle is Danny Mahealani. There’s not a single person in Beacon Hills that doesn’t love Danny and his tap dancing. Stiles always credits Danny as the one who helped Stiles realize he was bisexual, but whenever he brings it up Danny just rolls his eyes at him like he usually does and tells Stiles to stop staring at his ass. Stiles often wonders how someone as charming as Danny could be friends with someone like Jackson, but then Stiles remembers how nice Danny is and concludes that he must’ve taken pity on Jackson and befriended him out of the goodness of his heart.

Stiles and his friends walk out of chemistry together thirty minutes later. Scott congratulates Stiles on his ability to avoid getting detention with Harris. “I thought for sure we were gonna have to practice without you because Harris was gonna have you stuck in a classroom with him all afternoon,” Scott says when they get to their lockers to retrieve their books for their next class.

Stiles claps him on the shoulder, giving it a playful shake. “Scotty, ye of little faith, I know how to handle Harris.”

“That’s what you said that time you tried to talk him out of making you write a five-thousand word essay on chemical structures by telling him how pretty you thought he looked and then he changed the essay to ten-thousand words,” Lydia reminds him with a smirk, and Stiles frowns.

“I was having an off-day, but today is not that day.”

Danny chimes in, “Says the man who fell asleep during class and almost landed in detention.”

Stiles ignores Danny as if he hasn’t even spoken and instead wraps his arms around Scott and Lydia. “Today is a glorious day because today is the day I teach you guys our winning routine for regionals. Today, my wonderful friends, is the day we get one step closer to becoming national champions. Am I right or am I right?”

“Hell yeah, we’re ready to kick some ass, Captain!” Kira yells enthusiastically, and Stiles raises his hand to accept a high-five from her while the rest of the group stare at them both as if they’ve grown extra heads.

“See? Kira gets it.” Stiles turns to close his locker and then he, Lydia, and Scott are on their way to US History while Danny, Allison, and Kira head to the music classroom. “Three more classes and then get ready for the best practice of your life.”

“As long as it’s better than that time you tried to get us to learn that routine to Safety Dance,” Allison says with a shudder, “that was awful.”

“How many times do I have to say it? I was on a retro kick, and I had just finished watching an episode of _Glee_. I wasn’t in my right mind, Allison!” Stiles exclaims dramatically, and his friends laugh.

The group separates and when Stiles, Scott, and Lydia get to their US History class, Stiles notices that a trio of people are sitting in their usual seats and immediately lets out a groan of annoyance when he recognizes the person occupying his seat is none other than Derek Hale. He, Vernon Boyd, and Isaac Lahey are sitting in their seats chatting animatedly, and Stiles would rather have a month’s worth of detentions with Harris than have to deal with Derek and his friends.

Derek Hale is captain of the basketball team, filthy rich, incredibly smug, and unfairly gorgeous though Stiles would never admit that last part out loud to anyone. He and his group of friends have been walking around Beacon Hills’ High School as if they own the place since freshmen year. Derek tried out for the basketball team that year and became the first freshman in BHHS history to make the varsity squad. That plus the fact he looks like he walked right out of the pages of _GQ_ with his head of dark hair, green eyes, muscular frame, and wicked smile gave Derek instant popularity.

Though he had all the respect of his varsity teammates, Derek immediately befriended a few of the guys on the junior team. Vernon Boyd, a tall, dark-skinned boy with a deep voice and a permanently serious expression etched onto his face. Isaac Lahey, who has soft brown curls and piercing blue eyes, and, of course, Jackson Whittemore, the wealthy blond who spent most of his childhood terrorizing Stiles and Scott. Derek’s sister, Cora, is a year younger than him but she and her friend, Erica Reyes, a curly-haired blonde bombshell who is dating Boyd, still hang around with Derek and his friends.

Derek must have said something incredibly funny because Isaac and Boyd are laughing loudly, and Stiles is about ready to walk right back out the room and ditch class for the rest of the day. He can usually avoid interacting with him but apparently Stiles is going to be forced to talk to Derek freaking Hale! And the day was going so well up until this point.

“We can just go sit somewhere else,” Scott suggests.

Lydia agrees and is about to follow Scott to another group of seats when Stiles places his hands on their arms to keep them at his side. “No. We shouldn’t have to sit somewhere else just because those three just up and decide they want to take our seats.” Stiles marches over to the trio, determined to get his and his friends’ seats back.

Scott murmurs, “This isn’t going to end well.”

Stiles gives him the stink-eye before turning his attention to Derek and his friends who are still talking and haven’t even noticed him standing above them until he clears his throat obnoxiously. Derek glances up at him, a smirk gliding across his lips when they lock eyes, and Stiles absolutely does not lose his train of thought when that impossibly gorgeous gaze lands on him. “Excuse me?” Stiles begins rather politely when he remembers how to work his mouth.

“You’re excused,” Derek retorts smartly and his friends laugh as if he’s said the funniest thing they’ve ever heard, and Stiles can only sigh heavily in response.

“Yeah, okay, very mature and very original.” Stiles shuts his eyes for a moment to regain his composure before trying to speak again. “My friends and I usually sit in these seats.” Derek lifts an eyebrow at him and Stiles can only assume the action translates to “And?” Stiles runs a hand through his messy brown locks, nearly at his wit’s end and the conversation has just started. “I was just wondering if we could have them back,” he adds, hoping Derek will just agree and get out of his way, but Stiles hardly ever gets what he wants.

“I don’t remember there being assigned seats in this class,” Derek says, standing up from the chair to fold his arms across his chest and how is it fair that his t-shirt is managing to contain all those muscles without shredding it to pieces? Now that he’s standing up, Stiles realizes that there’s hardly an inch separating him and Derek in height, so aside from the fact Derek could probably bench-press him (his mind doesn’t go off somewhere dirty at that thought), Stiles is not the least bit intimidated by him.

“Boyd, is there assigned seating in this class or not?” Derek asks his friend, but the young man quickly raises his hands and shakes his head as if he wants no part of this discussion.

“You’re on your own, D,” Boyd responds. “I’m sure you can handle him without my help.”

“Which is exactly what Derek wants anyway, to _handle_ him,” Isaac adds with a shit-eating grin. Stiles notices Derek loses his swagger just long enough to glare daggers at the curly-haired boy, who only smiles widely in return, but doesn’t think anything of it. Stiles is more concerned about getting his seat back before their teacher comes in and calls the class to order than whatever is going on between Derek and his friend.

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose, irritation evident in his voice as he asks, “Look, can we have our seats back or are you just going to continue being a grade-A douchebag for the rest of fourth period and probably your life?”

Derek doesn’t answer him right away. He just stares at Stiles, and yeah, maybe Stiles is a little bit intimidated by him, but he’s not going to back down from Derek. Stiles crosses his arms, hoping to mimic the other boy’s pose but fails miserably. Derek gives Stiles an onceover, looking him up and down, and Stiles can feel his heart stutter pathetically from the intense expression on his face.

Eventually Derek’s usual smirk returns and he beckons his friends to follow him. “Come on, guys, let’s give them back their seats.”

Stiles’ head cocks back in surprise and he questions, “Just like that?”

Derek nods. “Just like that. See you later, Stiles.”

Stiles watches with furrowed eyebrows as Derek and his friends move to the back of the room and take seats at their usual desks. Stiles, Scott, and Lydia sit down together, and the strawberry blond turns in her chair to smile at him but doesn’t elaborate on why she’s looking at him that way.

“What?” He asks, and Lydia chuckles lightly, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder.

“Nothing, just interested in seeing how this all plays out.”

“How what all plays out?” Stiles asks, but his friend doesn’t respond to him and only mutters, “So completely clueless,” under her breath, managing to confuse Stiles even more. He looks to Scott for assistance, but he just shrugs, and Stiles sighs, grateful when their teacher walks into the room and gets class started.

Stiles is copying notes off the board when he feels someone’s eyes on him. He turns around and is shocked to find Derek staring at him but immediately ducks his head down into his book once Stiles catches him. He must be hallucinating because he could swear the tips of Derek’s ears are a light shade of pink but the boy blames it on a trick of the fluorescent lighting or something like that. Stiles swivels back around to face the front of the class and decides that he can’t concern himself with Derek Hale’s strange behavior. Stiles has got to focus on what’s important, winning regionals, not worrying about an egotistical basketball player who couldn’t care less about him.


	2. Missing the Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles have another awkward encounter.

Derek Hale makes a decision while sitting in the middle of his fifth period study hall. It’s taken him quite a while to come to this conclusion, but the young man feels it’s justified, in fact, with the way things are going in his life it’s clearly the only logical choice. Derek has decided…that he really needs to make new friends because the ones he has now just aren’t cutting it. They’re traitors, the whole lot of them, back-stabbing traitors who have made it their mission in life to torture and embarrass him. At the moment Isaac and Boyd are recounting the disastrous events of their history class to Erica and Cora, and the four of them are practically crying from laughing so hard at his expense.

Derek slinks down in his chair, attempting to look as though he’s catching up on the reading for his literature class, never mind the fact he’s holding his copy of _The Mayor of Casterbridge_ upside down and doesn’t even notice until he realizes he can’t read anything on the page. He tosses the book aside with a huff, scowling at the foursome sitting on either side of him remembering the good old days back in middle school when he was a loner and no one was around to bother him or laugh at him besides his brothers and sisters and occasionally his Uncle Peter.

Well, technically, Derek’s never actually been a loner, per se. Growing up in an enormous house surrounded by a huge family on a daily basis means there’s almost always someone around whether it be Derek’s mother and father, any one of his four siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and an endless number of cousins, both older and younger. So, no, Derek’s never been a loner, not really, not when it comes to family; friends, however, is a different story.

Derek’s never gone out of his way to make friends. In middle school, he was quiet and shy, more likely to be caught with his nose in a book than out on the basketball court in front of crowds of people, not that he didn’t love the sport. He’d been playing since he was old enough to hold a ball in his hands. It’s a tradition in his family; the Hales all play basketball. The family home has a full-sized court in the backyard and a smaller gym inside. Though all the Hales play the game, some enjoy it more than others. Cora gave up the sport right around the time she graduated from junior high while Derek’s older sister, Laura, is on an athletic scholarship at UCLA.

Derek, of course, made varsity his freshmen year at BHHS, and with the title of first freshman ever to make the varsity team came popularity and basically forced the young man to come out of his shell. Derek knew he was good at basketball and with every game he helped his team win the more confident he became. It also didn’t hurt that Derek started working out and grew facial hair, giving him a more mature look than some other boys his age.

At the time, there were seniors and juniors clamoring for his attention, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy it, but despite everything, Derek ended up becoming friends with kids in his own grade. He’d met Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson at tryouts and for whatever reason clicked with each of them. Though they’re the same age, Derek treats Isaac like the younger brother he never had. He’s protective of the curly-haired boy, even when he’s being a sassy little shit. Boyd and Derek have similar personalities; both are quiet and stoic, but with charming wit, though Erica tries to bring out Boyd’s rowdier side every chance she gets. Of course, Jackson literally gives no fucks about what anyone thinks about him, and Derek can respect that, even if it is a bit off-putting sometimes.

So, after being basically friendless in the years up until high school, Derek had gained a nice little clique of his own, and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t love his friends, even when they’re being utterly obnoxious like they are now.

“It really wasn’t that funny,” Derek grumbles, but his companions respond by laughing louder at him.

“Yes, it was,” Isaac retorts and continues to snicker even when Derek levels him with an impressive glare.

“Oh, brother of mine,” Cora teases, tugging at her older brother’s cheeks and grinning when he promptly swats her hand away. “How sad is it that your idea of flirting with someone is sitting in his seat and then passive-aggressively snarking at him?”

Derek’s quick to snap at her, “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Yeah, we got that part of the story, Derek,” Erica jokes; Boyd smirking in agreement beside her.

“With Derek acting so ridiculous and Stilinski being so oblivious, part of me kind of wishes someone would put you both out of your misery, but the other part of me is just way too amused by all of this.”

Derek knows things have gotten bad when even Boyd can’t find it in himself to show him some sympathy, not that the young man could blame him. This “situation”, as Derek likes to call it despite Cora laughing at him for referring to it that way, with Stiles has gotten completely out of hand. The “situation” has been going on since freshmen year.

Shortly after he joined the basketball team, practice had ended for the day and Derek was gathering up his things outside the locker room when the sound of music, some top 40 hit he’d heard Cora blasting in her room, caught his attention. Intrigued, Derek followed the sound until it led him to one of the school’s smaller auditoriums that held a stage and several rows of seats. One of the double doors was open, so Derek didn’t feel as though he was being a creeper by spying on whoever occupied the room but still found himself peeping inside from behind the closed door so he wouldn’t get caught. Derek’s mouth dropped opened the first time he laid eyes on Stiles Stilinski.

At first glance, Stiles appeared gangly, all limbs and no idea how to use them, but that was not the case at all. Stiles was graceful and, there’s no other word to describe it, beautiful when he danced. His long legs lifting into the air with intricate turns and leaps mixed in along with a pair of hips that Derek thought should be illegal in all 50 states. His body moved to the beat of the music so naturally, like he hadn’t given any thoughts to what he was doing, and Derek bet Stiles didn’t even know what he looked like, elegant at some points and downright indecent at others.

It only made matters worse that Stiles was exactly his type, with messy hair, an attractive scattering of moles, big amber eyes, and a mouth that Derek wouldn’t mind putting to good use. Derek didn’t know a thing about him other than the fact he was a gorgeous dancer but that didn’t stop him from wanting the boy in the worst ways. Derek wasn’t even sure how long he stood there watching Stiles dance when someone placed their hands on his shoulders, and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned to find Boyd staring at him with a quizzical expression. It only took Boyd about a second after glancing between Derek’s flushed face and Stiles up on the stage to realize what was going on. His face broke into an uncharacteristically wide grin, and Derek’s cheeks managed to grow warmer under his friend’s amused eyes.

Derek barely had a chance to open his mouth to make a half-assed attempt to explain away his actions. No, he wasn’t being a creeper and watching a devastatingly attractive young man dancing without his knowledge even though that’s exactly what he was doing. But Boyd being Boyd just lifted a hand and stopped him before Derek even spoke. “Not judging, Derek, not at all. Everyone’s allowed to like who they like.”

“But I don’t—”

“Everyone’s allowed to like who they like,” Boyd repeated louder and slower than the first time, adding in a softer tone, “even if it’s the Stilinski Kid.”

Derek’s face paled at the sound of the boy’s name and he blurted out, “Stilinski? As in Sheriff Stilinski, that’s the sheriff’s son?”

Boyd looked as though he was fighting off a fit of laughter for Derek’s sake as he replied, “Unless Stilinski’s a more common name than I originally thought, yes, Derek, that’s the sheriff’s kid.”

Derek remembered hearing his mom and dad talk about Sheriff Stilinski, how his family had gone through a tragedy, how good of a man he was, and how protective he was of his son, the son that Derek was currently drooling over. The young man groaned softly, running a hand through his hair; he was royally screwed and still is to this day. Derek’s spent the last four years nursing an unrequited crush on Stiles Stilinski and with the way things went down in their history class his crush is going to stay unrequited.

“So, Derek, when are you going to pull your head out of your ass and just tell Stilinski that you’re crazy about him and you want him to show you some of his moves…in the bedroom?” Erica asks, and Derek buries his face in his hands, so completely done with his group of friends.

Isaac gives Erica a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Oh, come on, Erica, you know that’s not going to happen because it would require Derek to talk to Stiles for longer than two minutes and not act like an idiot around him.”

“Derek? Not acting like an idiot? He’s more likely to turn into a werewolf,” Cora says, and the foursome laughs while Derek lifts his head to frown at them.

“Is this really how you guys are planning to spend the whole period, making fun of me?”

They glance sideways at each other before responding in unison, “Yes!”

Derek rolls his eyes, momentarily relieved when the bell rings, signaling the end of the period. But then he remembers that his last class of the day is gym, which would be great for Derek, give him a chance to shoot around with Boyd and Jackson before practice, if that gym class didn’t contain Stiles Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski, who Derek knows for sure must’ve ordered his gym uniform a size too small just to mess with him because Stiles’ shorts are way too tight and show off way too much of his legs and thighs to be the correct size.

Derek’s watching Stiles jog around the track with the Argent girl and Jackson’s friend, and he can’t help the way his gaze falls to his ass. His mind is drifting into impure territory when a basketball comes flying out of nowhere and hits him square in the face. It’s just Derek’s luck that Stiles is looking at him when the incident happens and lets out a loud laugh at his misfortune. How pathetic is it that Derek still finds Stiles ridiculously attractive even when he’s laughing at him?

He rubs his nose and glowers in Jackson’s direction, because Derek knows he’s the one responsible for the ball hitting him, but the young man just shrugs at him. “Stop staring at Stilinski, it’s making me nauseous, and D up, Hale.”

Jackson dribbles the ball between his legs, but Derek easily snatches it away and shoots a long jumper over Jackson, watching it sail through the hoop. A smug smile crosses his lips, and he turns his attention back to the track, hoping Stiles might’ve seen him in a less embarrassing moment, but he’s too busy conversing with his friends to give Derek a second thought.

“You could just talk to him,” Boyd says when Derek’s eyes linger a tad bit too long on Stiles again.

“Or I could just keep hitting you in the face until it knocks some sense into you and you give up on this ridiculous nonsense?” Jackson suggests, making a move as if to hit him again, but Derek doesn’t even flinch. “Come on, Derek, it’s _Stilinski_. I think we all agree you can do better.”

Derek glares at him after that statement, and Boyd chuckles when Jackson shrinks back. Once Jackson’s put in his place, Derek can focus back on Stiles. Maybe he should take Boyd’s advice and talk to Stiles; it couldn’t hurt, right? He and his friends are passing by their court again when Derek hears himself call out, “Hey, Stiles!”

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, Derek regrets saying them because Stiles stops mid-stride and turns to look at him, apprehension covering his face. Stiles glances over his shoulder to check that Derek is actually talking to him and not someone else in his general vicinity with the same name because, really, there are so many other people walking around with that name. Stiles looks to his friends for support, but much like Derek’s companions, they leave him in the lurch, backing up and grinning widely as they do so. The young man sighs heavily before walking over to where Derek is on the court.

Once he’s standing before him, Stiles folds his arms and asks, “Can I help you?”

Derek winces at his hostile tone and wonders if he’s made a mistake calling him over without having prepared something to say. He should’ve realized how crazy he’d seem, trying to make small talk with Stiles after the stupid shit he pulled earlier.

“Didn’t think this through, did you?” Boyd asks in an undertone beside him.

“Not really,” he mutters back, running an anxious hand through his hair as Stiles continues to look at him like Derek’s something he found on the bottom of his shoe.

“Well,” Stiles begins, tapping his foot impatiently, “did you want something?”

Jackson snickers behind him, and Derek turns to glare at him with narrowed eyes. Unfortunately, it does nothing to stop Jackson’s laughter, even Boyd’s having a hard time holding back his grin, and Derek prays to every higher power he can think of to give him the strength to get through this ordeal. It occurs to Derek that he still hasn’t answered Stiles’ question about what he wants, mostly because he’s afraid he’ll start blabbing about all the inappropriate things he’d like to do to Stiles while he’s wearing those gym shorts.

Derek runs another hand through his hair and while he doesn’t start babbling about pressing Stiles against a wall and having his way with him, he _does_ start babbling incoherently which might be just as bad. “I…I was just…I was wondering if…if…if you…”

Stiles makes a sweeping motion with his hand, signaling for Derek to finish his thought. “You were wondering if I what?”

“I was wondering if you had stretched properly before you started jogging around the track,” he finally blurts and hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels because that’s just about the dumbest thing Derek could ever say.

His friends agree with that sentiment because instead of quietly chuckling, Jackson breaks down, doubling over with laughter and wiping at his eyes. Boyd face palms, mumbling a quiet, “ _Wow_ ,” under his breath. Stiles, meanwhile, is looking at Derek as if he’s lost his mind and that’s probably a proper assessment of what’s going on with the young man at the moment.

“ _So_ …” Stiles deliberately drags out the one-syllable word, “you called me over here because you wanted to know if I stretched before I started jogging? Have I got that right or am I missing something?”

Jackson stops laughing long enough to exclaim, “Oh my God, Stilinski, you really are just as dumb as you look!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore Jackson in favor of focusing on Derek, who’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at Stiles. “Was there a point to this or are you just messing with me…again? Was taking me and my friends’ seats in history not enough for you?”

Derek breathes a sigh; this just isn’t going the way he thought it would, so to try and save himself from any further embarrassment, he reverts back to his usual self: smug, arrogant, and a downright jackass. “What? I was genuinely concerned for your well-being, Stiles. We wouldn’t want you cramping up and falling flat on your face in the middle of our entire gym class now would we?”

"Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you, me embarrassing myself in front of everyone?” Stiles asks, and Derek smirks.

“It wouldn’t bother me.”

Stiles groans in exasperation. “Ugh, you know what, this was such a waste of time. I should’ve known the only reason you’d call me over here was to try and make me look stupid.”

Derek half-shrugs at him. “Guilty as charged though it’s not like I’d have to try that hard.”

“You’re an ass,” Stiles tells him before storming away with Allison and Danny, who both glance back at Derek with “Seriously?” expressions etched on their faces.

As soon as they’re far enough away, Derek pounds his fist against his forehead several times in a row, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid. What is _wrong_ with me?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that as well,” Boyd chimes in, and Derek sighs.

Derek’s rubbing his temples, he feels a headache coming on, when he notices Jackson’s got his phone out and appears to be texting someone. “What are you doing?”

Jackson glances up from his phone to answer, “Oh, I hope you didn’t think I wasn’t going to tell Isaac, Erica, and Cora about this shit. It’s hilarious!”

Derek blanches and then growls, “Jackson, I swear to—” He lunges at him, but Jackson’s too quick and manages to duck out of the way before Derek can get his hands on the phone. Boyd stands back watching the scene unfold with a disapproving look though he does nothing to stop the action.

Jackson laughs when he dodges Derek again and reads one of his texts aloud. “Cora says her and Erica are forgoing working on their economics project just to come to our practice to laugh at you.”

“Oh that’s just perfect,” Derek grumbles. He crosses his arms with a frown until his eyes find Stiles again. He’s all the way on the other side of the gym talking to Allison and Danny, who appear to be consoling him. He meets Derek’s gaze, glaring at him, and what does Derek do? He grins back at him until Stiles visibly bristles and turns his back on him. Derek runs his hands down his face, muffling a groan; Stiles hates him and Derek only has himself to blame for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left comments or kudos on this story. I really appreciate it! I will try to get chapter 3 up as soon as possible.


	3. We Started Off on the Wrong Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles recalls his and Derek's first meeting and then receives some bad news.

“ _Un-fucking-believable_ ,” Stiles mutters as he changes into his practice clothes, still steaming over what occurred in his gym class.

How could he be so stupid? Did he really think Derek Hale would talk to him for any reason other than to try and humiliate him? That’s what Derek does; it’s what he’s always done though Stiles still doesn’t understand why. What did he do to Derek to make him hate Stiles so much? Their first meeting was rocky but most of that had been Derek’s fault.

Stiles remembered walking to one of his classes with Scott during freshmen year. They were arguing over the ending of _Inception_ when a wall of solid muscle bumped into him, causing Stiles to drop his textbooks and spiral notebooks all over the hallway. Stiles isn’t the most organized person, so all of his notes for his classes had gone flying everywhere, forcing the young man to drop down to his knees to retrieve his papers.

Scott had bent down to help and once everything was back in order, Stiles returned to his feet and was greeted by the intense gaze of Derek Hale. Stiles startled, nearly dropping all of his stuff again because Derek’s hazel-green eyes were a sight to behold as was his body. How someone could look like a Greek god by age fourteen was way beyond Stiles’ comprehension.

Stiles shook himself out of his Derek-Hale-induced stupor. No matter how attractive he was, it didn’t give Derek the right to be rude. Stiles frowned deeply at the young man. “You know, usually when a person bumps into someone and knocks their things all over the floor, they offer to help pick up the stuff or, I don’t know, _apologize_.”

Derek didn’t say anything, and Stiles scoffed in disbelief. “ _Wow_ , you’re a real piece of work. A guy becomes the first freshman ever to make the varsity basketball team and suddenly they’re too good to remember common courtesy.”

“You know who I am?” Derek questioned, and Stiles had laughed lightly.

“Of course I do. Everyone knows you, walking around Beacon Hills’ High like you own the place, but guess what? You don’t. Despite what you choose to believe, not everyone around here kneels in your presence.”

“I never asked you to kneel,” Derek said, but Stiles ignored him because once he got on a roll, it was hard to stop him.

“Look, I get it, you’re popular, but that doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people and not even trying to apologize. Didn’t anybody teach you any manners?”

Again, Derek didn’t speak and just as Stiles was about to start up again, Scott took ahold of his arm and dragged him away. “Come on, Stiles, let’s just go. We’re gonna be late for class.”

Stiles had thrown one last glare over his shoulder at Derek before he allowed Scott to pull him around the corner. Since then, Stiles has done nothing but try to stay out of Derek’s way, but for whatever reason they’ve been in each other’s orbit recently, and Stiles is thankful the school day is over so he can get to practice and let off a little steam on the dance floor.

Unfortunately when he gets to the small dance studio reserved for Spin Cycle’s practices in the damp, dark recesses of the school’s basement, he’s met with a depressing sight. His friends, who are usually talking, laughing, and warming up by this point, are seated in various spots around the room, looking dejected. Their teacher sponsor, Barbara Finstock, is standing before them with her arms folded across her chest and her mouth shut in a thin line.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks, dropping his messenger bag down on the floor beside the door and walking in to join his fellow members. “Why aren’t you guys warming up?”

“I got an upsetting piece of news this morning, Stilinski,” Finstock tells him.

Stiles takes a seat between Scott and Lydia, who immediately reaches for his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. If this had been freshmen year, Stiles would be on cloud nine over the prospect of holding hands with Lydia Martin, but now it’s just a normal occurrence between a pair of friends.

Finstock takes a deep breath before revealing what’s troubling the group of young people. “I talked to Principal Davis this morning. Apparently the school’s going to be cutting the funding for some of its programs and getting rid of others altogether. I’m sure you can guess which area they’re planning to bleed dry first.”

Stiles sighs. “The arts.”

Finstock nods. “Yup. And with Spin Cycle’s popularity and winning record waning over the past few years, he’s talking about dropping us.”

Stiles leans back to bang his head against the wall behind him. Just when he thought the day couldn’t get any more horrible, he receives the worst news of all. His group, his team, one of the most important things in his life is about to be taken away from him.

Stiles knows he can still dance whenever he wants, that just because they want to end Spin Cycle doesn’t mean he has to stop doing what he loves. But it’s his last year in high school, and Stiles wants to end his time at Beacon Hills’ High with a championship. Not only that, what about the group of kids coming in after him that love dance, that use it as an outlet for some of the pain they’re feeling as Stiles has, or the ones that just dance for the fun of it? What happens to them?

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Kira asks. “They can’t just take Spin Cycle away from us, can they?”

“I’m afraid they can,” Finstock replies with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, guys. I wish there was something we could do.”

Stiles knows she really means it. Barbara and her brother Bobby started working at BHHS ten years ago, and Barbara’s been the teacher sponsor for Spin Cycle the whole time. She was there when the team was winning and has suffered through all the defeats of the last few years. She’s just as sad to see the team disbanded as they are.

“I can’t believe this is really it,” Allison says with a frown. “Without Spin Cycle, we all might’ve never become friends.”

“Well, just because it’s ending doesn’t mean we all still won’t be friends, right?” Danny reminds them.

Scott chuckles. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with us for the long run, Danny.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” he jokes, but the group’s laughter quickly dissolves into uncomfortable silence. Stiles looks at each one of his friend’s disheartened expressions and decides that it can’t just end this way.

“How long do we have before they shut us down?” He asks.

“Sometime in the next month,” Finstock replies.

Stiles stands up from his spot on the floor to speak. “What if…Do you think we could talk them into keeping us around until after regionals? Maybe if we got to nationals and showed them we’re still a winning team, maybe the board would reconsider their decision.”

The group begins chattering excitedly and Finstock says, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe we could appeal to Principal Davis’ rational side.”

“Does Principal Davis even have a rational side?” Lydia inquires. “I mean, this isn’t the first group he and the board have tried to get rid of. He’s already cut photography and theater. There won’t be anything left by the time he gets through.”

Stiles says, “We’ve got to do something, not just for us, but for the future generations as well. For all those other lanky, awkward kids who love dance and have best friends with uneven jaws.” Scott frowns at him, and Stiles mouths an apology before adding, “They’ll need Spin Cycle just as much as we did.”

“Stiles is right,” Danny says and then shakes his head in disbelief. “I never thought I would say those words, but he’s right.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him and states in a sarcastic tone, “Thanks for the support, Danny.” Danny gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and Stiles laughs before turning serious again. “All we have to do is convince Davis to give us a chance to prove we can be winners by going out and winning regionals and getting to nationals. Sounds easy enough, right?” His friends glance at each other wearily but then agree with him. “Okay, so, let’s get started.”

It’s after six by the time Stiles and his friends finish up their practice, feeling good about what they’ve accomplished. They’ve nearly got their routine for regionals down, and Stiles is confident that they’ll win, get to nationals, and have a shot at saving Spin Cycle. Stiles is just about to get into his jeep after waving goodbye to Lydia, Scott, and Kira when he notices Derek leaving the school and heading to his sleek, black Camaro parked only a few spaces away from him.

Stiles curses, ducking down behind his vehicle and hoping that Derek doesn’t spot him, but today hasn’t been his day because Derek _does_ see him and looks as though he wants to speak to him. Stiles, however, doesn’t give him the chance. “Whatever you’re planning to say, just do us both a favor, and don’t, okay? Just get in your ridiculous car and leave.”

Derek chuckles softly, surprising Stiles with what appears to be a genuine smile and not his usual evil, but still insanely hot, smirk. “You’re calling my car ridiculous when you drive that monstrosity?”

He gestures towards the jeep, and Stiles’ mouth drops open in offense. “Hey, _do not_ badmouth Roscoe. He’s a classic.”

Derek lifts an eyebrow in question. “Roscoe? Really? You couldn’t have come up with a better name than that, not that it deserves a better name, but you could’ve tried a little bit harder.”

Stiles stares at him incredulously. If he didn’t know any better, he might think Derek Hale was actually flirting—joking with him. But Stiles does know better. He knows how awful Derek has been to him over the years, and he knows that’s never going to change. If he’s taking the time to talk to Stiles, it can’t be good, and Stiles has no time for his games.

“I should go,” he tells Derek, and Stiles almost thinks he sees something akin to disappointment flash across his face, but Derek hates him so maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. Stiles climbs into his jeep, gets it started after three unsuccessful tries, and gives Derek a salute before speeding out of the parking lot. He’s more than a little surprised when he realizes Derek actually stands there and watches him drive away.

“Not even going to think about that,” Stiles tells himself as he pulls into the driveway behind his dad’s police cruiser. He practically tumbles out of the jeep and heads into the house, still reminding himself not to put any more effort into thinking about Derek Hale.

“Dad, your loving son is home!” He calls out just before walking into the kitchen and catching his father red-handed. Stiles points an accusatory finger at his dad, demanding, “Drop the slice of pepperoni, now.”

John Stilinski lowers the piece of pizza away from his mouth and back down to the plate in front of him, releasing a long-suffering sigh as he does so. “ _Stiles_.”

“ _Dad_ ,” he mocks before marching over to the kitchen table and snatching away the large pizza the sheriff planned to indulge in before his son got home. “We’ve talking about this, Dad. No pizza, it’s bad for your cholesterol.”

“I’m as healthy as an ox, Stiles,” the sheriff says, reaching up to grab the pizza, but Stiles pulls it back before he can get his hands on it.

“Okay, one, who even came up with that saying in the first place? And, two, at your last visit Dr. Taylor said your cholesterol was too high and that he wanted it down to a more reasonable number when you go back for another checkup. Eating pepperoni pizza isn’t going to help that number go down, Dad.”

The sheriff rubs his eyes, letting out a noise of disbelief when Stiles dumps the entire pizza into the garbage and then moves over to the refrigerator, pulling out two Tupperware containers and raising them up with an excited, “Ah-ha!” and placing one on the table in front of his father. Stiles removes the top and hands his dad a fork.

The sheriff glances down at the contents of the container with a frown. “What is this, Stiles?”

“Chicken Caesar salad,” he replies with a grin. “I made it myself. I sent you a text this afternoon to let you know it was in the fridge for you, but you must not have gotten it.”

The older man looks sheepish but still replies, “Must not have. Silly me.” With a resigned sigh and a shake of his head, he digs into the salad, making a face as he does so. Stiles beams at him before sliding into the seat across from his dad and opening up his own container, taking a bite out of a club sandwich. “How come you get a sandwich and I don’t?” His father complains.

“Because I’m a growing boy and I’ve had a tough day,” Stiles responds through a mouthful of his sandwich.

“Oh, I’m sure the trials and tribulations of Beacon Hills’ High must be hell compared to what I’m going through down at the station,” he jokes, taking another reluctant bite of his salad. The sheriff, noticing his son’s dismal expression, asks seriously, “So, what’s going on, Kiddo? What made your day so tough?”

“The school’s trying to get rid of Spin Cycle.”

His father gives him a sympathetic look at this news. Stiles’ dad knows how important the dance team is to his son, how after they lost Claudia, dancing was one of the only things that helped Stiles cope with the gigantic, gaping hole in his heart caused by his mother’s death. Spin Cycle had helped fill that hole and the fact that his son could lose it nearly breaks the sheriff’s heart.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. Can’t you and the other kids do something?”

“Well, we’re going to try,” Stiles replies. “We figure maybe if we win regionals and get to nationals, they’ll at least consider keeping us around. I don’t know. We might just be wasting our time.”

“You’re smart and talented; you’ll find a way to work things out,” the sheriff tells him and Stiles nods, smiling a bit at the compliment.

“Thanks, Dad.”

The young man picks at his sandwich until his dad asks, “Anything else you need to talk about?”

Stiles considers sharing what happened with Derek but decides against it. His dad is kind of overprotective of him and would probably blow a gasket if he found out Derek was causing him problems and that’s a stressful situation he could do without.

So, Stiles just shakes his head in response to the question. “Nope. Everything else is good.” Except for the fact Stiles can’t stop picturing Derek standing in the school parking lot with him, smiling at him, joking with him like they’re old friends when they’re anything but. They’re not friends; they’re not anything to each other, and as long as Stiles remembers that, the easier his life will be. Well, Stiles can only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on chapter 4 and will try to have it up by tomorrow...hopefully.


	4. Out of Sync

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Talia have a conversation about Stiles, leading Derek to make a bold move...which, of course, doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but I love it because it introduces the spitfire known as Talia Hale.

Derek is up early the next morning, shooting free throws outside on his family’s court. It’s a cool, crisp autumn morning, and he could’ve just used the indoor court like a normal person, a normal person with an indoor basketball court, but the fresh air helps Derek relax. He’s always been an outdoorsy person; his family goes camping at least twice a year. Cora bitches the whole time and Derek gets to laugh at her ineptness when it comes to all things camping; it’s his favorite time of the year.

Derek takes a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs before shooting another free throw. He usually only shoots fifty before school but he’s already hit seventy-five, and he’s pretty sure he knows the reason why he feels the need to overcompensate this morning.

He and Stiles were actually having a pretty decent conversation last night; Derek wasn’t being a complete asshole and Stiles didn’t seem to mind talking to him. The young man thought things were going fairly well between them, and he’d hoped to be able to ask Stiles to continue the conversation over dinner. But then Stiles had made a run for it and left Derek standing in the middle of the parking lot watching him drive away like the complete and utter lovesick puppy that he is.

Derek sighs when his next free throw misses the hoop entirely. There might be a chance for something more to happen between them if Derek could stop acting like an idiot around Stiles all the time. “Easier said than done,” he mutters under his breath.

He’s just about to shoot again when the back door to his home opens and Talia Hale steps outside. Derek’s mother is a beautiful, kind, and graceful woman. She and Derek’s father run a successful charity that helps preserve wildlife around California, but her number one priority is looking after her family.

Derek greets his mother when she joins him on the court. “Hey, Mom.”

She smiles at her son as she says, “Good morning, Derek. You’re up earlier than usual.” He shrugs in response, but of course his mother sees right through his façade of indifference. She waves a critical finger at him. “Oh, no you don’t, Little Mister.” Talia has called Derek “Little Mister” since he was a baby, and unfortunately for the young man, she’s decided not to give up on the nickname no matter how big he gets.

“You don’t get to,” Talia copies his shrug, “at me and expect me not to ask what’s going on with you. So, my youngest boy, tell mama what’s got you upset. Does it have anything to do with the reason Cora and Laura were on the phone for over two hours last night laughing rather evilly together?”

Derek rolls his eyes. After everything that went on between him and Stiles yesterday, he figured Cora would call their older sister so they could cackle together about his predicament. Apparently there’s no sense of solidarity between the Hale siblings unless it involves them banding together to tease him.

“They were talking about me,” Derek replies. “Actually, making fun of me would probably be a more accurate description.” He releases a sigh, walking over to sit down on one of the benches lining the court, his mother following suit.

Derek leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs before speaking again. He actually does more rambling than anything else. “There’s…There’s someone at school that I…I sort of…”

Talia smiles warmly at him when he trails off, placing an arm around his shoulder. “You know, I’ve heard nothing but good things about the sheriff’s son.”

Derek sits up in a hurry, turning to stare at his mother with wide eyes. How could she possibly know about Stiles? The question is just about to pass through his lips when realization hits him and his eyes narrow. Damn it, Cora! Does she have to share every single detail about his personal life with the rest of their family?

His mom puts up a hand to stop him before he can start speaking. “Just so you know, Cora didn’t tell me anything. She didn’t have to because a mother always knows, Little Mister.”

Derek shakes his head at the nickname, wants to remind her that by this time next year he’ll be in college, but he knows his words will just fall on deaf ears and that his mother will insist on calling him by the embarrassing name anyway.

“Besides that,” she adds, “it was pretty obvious how you felt when you spent all of your time during last year’s policemen’s charity ball making heart eyes at him.”

Derek had forgotten all about that. Every year his parents help host a dinner to honor Beacon Hills’ finest and raise money for several charities in the process. Last year they had dragged him and Cora to the gala against their will. Derek was prepared to spend the entire evening playing paper football with his sister when he just happened to spot Stiles and Scott sitting at one of the tables up front with Scott’s mother and the sheriff. They were, of course, goofing off together, and the sheriff was making a half-hearted attempt to scold them while trying not to look too amused by their antics in front of his employees. Derek was far enough away to have the option of checking out Stiles without him noticing.

“You’re such a creeper,” Cora had whispered in his ear, but Derek waved her off, focusing his attention on Stiles.

His hair was actually styled for once and not in its usual messy state though Derek loved it either way, and he was wearing a black dress shirt, black slacks that were fitting him quite well, and this ridiculous gray bowtie that only Stiles would be able to pull off. He had laughed at something Scott said, and Derek couldn’t help being distracted by the way his head fell back when he laughed, exposing the long line of his neck and the pale skin just begged to be tasted.

His mother wasn’t exaggerating; Derek had gazed lovingly at Stiles for the whole evening. Of course she noticed, someone would have to be blind or, apparently, named Stiles Stilinski not to notice how Derek felt about the boy.

Talia laughs softly before saying, “I felt so bad for that poor young lady who kept asking you to dance that night. What was her name?”

“Greenberg,” Derek answers, “though I’m pretty sure she has more of a crush on my coach than on me.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “That’s a little disconcerting.”

Derek nods in agreement. “That it is.” He and his mother sit quietly for a moment, just letting the cool breeze whip through their hair, until Derek speaks up again. “It doesn’t really matter how I feel about him because he doesn’t like me.”

Talia looks at her son, disbelief crossing her features. “What’s not to like about you? You’re smart, handsome, funny; anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I haven’t exactly been very nice to him,” he admits softly.

At these words, his mother tuts disapprovingly. “Oh Derek, pulling his metaphorical pigtails I see.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m in any sort of position to judge, seeing as I was the exact same way with your father. Oh, he and I used to go at it.”

“ _Mom_!” Derek exclaims, covering his face with his hands. He doesn’t need a mental picture of his parents together that way.

Talia waves a dismissive hand at him. “Not like that…well, sometimes like that.” Derek groans loudly, and his mom laughs, wrapping him up in a hug.

“The point I’m trying to make is, give yourself a chance, Derek. Don’t go running away or picking a fight because you’re scared of being rejected. There’s a possibility he’s just as scared as you are, possibly even more so since you inherited the Hale family eyebrows of doom, and I know you’ve unleashed them on that poor, unsuspecting young man.”

“Once or twice,” Derek says with a grin and they both laugh. He hugs his mother tighter, burying his face into her shoulder, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Mom.”

She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “Anything for you, Little Mister.” Once Derek lifts his head from her shoulder, Talia pats his cheeks playfully. “Now, go shower up and get dressed for school.”

The young man nods, grabbing the basketball he’d been using and walking back to the house with his mother, feeling slightly better about his chances with Stiles. Maybe things between them aren’t as hopeless as they appear.

Derek’s all smiles when he steps inside the high school later that morning. He’s definitely going to take his mother’s advice and give himself a chance to win over Stiles even though he’s not sure how he’s planning to do it. Derek’s face falls upon realizing he doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Stiles when he sees him. He just knows he wants to talk to him, wants to expand upon the nice moment they had going last night. Derek takes a deep breath, remembering that he won’t even see Stiles until fourth period so he still has time to plan out his strategy. Everything’s going to be fine, Derek tells himself, just fine.

Derek’s walking to his locker, fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone. He’s hoping to get ahold of Boyd to share the good news with him, that he’s finally going to make his move, when he bumps into someone. Derek instinctively reaches out to steady the person, placing his hands on a pair of slim hips, and mentally curses when he glances up and meets Stiles’ amber-colored eyes.

The first thing Derek _should_ do is let go of Stiles and take a step away from him, but he doesn’t. Derek continues to hold onto Stiles, fingertips tracing lightly over his hips, and his eyes fall to his mouth. The little mole on the left side of Stiles’ face near the corner of his mouth is downright infuriating. Derek wants more than ever to trace his tongue over it and every other single mole on the boy’s body.

Derek’s gaze returns to Stiles’ and finds the young man staring at him with a deer-in-headlights expression. Derek is very close to leaning in and kissing the shocked look right off his face when Stiles appears to come back to himself and jerks away from Derek’s touch, creating some space between them.

Stiles releases a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and blurts out, “You should really watch where you’re going.”

Derek can’t help himself. He grins at Stiles and repeats his words back at him. “ _You_ should really watch where _you’re_ going.”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Stiles scoffs, eyes rolling skyward in annoyance. “You’re aggravating and nothing but a distraction that’s getting in the way of me focusing on more important things.”

Derek’s smile widens at the sound of these words and he uses them to his advantage. “Well, if you consider me a distraction, then that means you’re thinking about me, which I don’t really have a problem with if I’m being honest.”

Stiles can only manage a shrill squeak after this statement, sputtering pathetically while Derek continues to grin at him. “You…wait… _what_?”

Derek leans in to whisper against his ear, “You’re going to be late for class, Stiles,” and is quite pleased when he hears Stiles’ sharp intake of breath. Derek pulls back and is greeted with the pleasant sight of Stiles’ flushed cheeks.

Deciding not to push his luck any further, Derek tells him, “I’ll see you in history,” and steps aside to walk past Stiles, unable to contain his smile as he continues down the hall to his first period class. He glances back at the young man and nearly laughs when he sees him standing stock-still where Derek left him but is now joined by Scott, Lydia, and Allison, who appear to be trying to snap him out of his trance.

Derek doesn’t get very far before he’s bombarded by his own group of friends, who apparently witnessed the moment between him and Stiles and start demanding he give them details.

“What in the world has gotten into you and where can I get some because I love it!” Erica shrieks and Derek chuckles at her enthusiastic reaction.

He shrugs, trying not to look too smug, as he replies, “Just giving myself a chance.”

Jackson claps him on the shoulder and asks, “Oh, is that what you were doing, Derek, giving yourself a chance with Stilinski? Because from where I’m standing, it kind of looks like you made him sick.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow, confusion set on his face, until Jackson turns him back around to look at the spot where he left Stiles, whose face does have a greenish tint to it now. Derek watches in horror as Stiles slaps a hand over his mouth and rushes off in the opposite direction towards the bathroom with Scott following after him. Allison and Lydia stay where they are, looking concerned about their friend’s welfare until they turn their gazes on Derek. He winces at the death glares the girls throw his way while his friends bust out laughing at him, as usual.

“I can’t even…” Cora has to take a breath in the middle of her sentence because she’s laughing too hard. “I can’t even believe you made him sick! I just…”

She and Erica collapse against each other, a fit of giggles overtaking both girls, while Jackson and Isaac laugh loudly as well. Boyd, of course, is the only one of his group who at least _tries_ not to appear too amused by the situation.

“Whatever that is probably has nothing to do with you,” Boyd tries to assure him, but Derek can’t help thinking it’s not a coincidence that Stiles gets sick right after Derek attempts to flirt with him.

“So, I make Stiles want to throw up,” Derek says, fingers clenched into fists at his side. “That’s…That’s just great. This isn’t helping, you know!” He adds loudly over his friends’ cackling before stomping away with the group calling after him, apologizing for making fun of him even while they’re still laughing.

Derek ignores them, sliding into an empty classroom and closing himself up inside the room to get away from his friends’ teasing for a moment. He leans against the door, banging his head against it. It’s always going to be one step forward, ten steps back with him and Stiles. Derek should probably just get used to the idea of not having Stiles in his life the way he wants him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek has the worst luck, doesn't he? Will try to get chapter 5 up by tomorrow evening!


	5. Can't Keep Up With the Tempo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's not buying what Stiles is trying to sell while Derek puts his foot in it...again.

Stiles makes it into the bathroom stall just before his body betrays him and releases the bile that has built up in his throat. He leans against the toilet bowl, taking several deep breaths until he feels well enough to stand back up and exit the stall.

Scott is waiting on the other side when he emerges, genuine concern on his face, and Stiles is extremely grateful to have him as a best friend. As Stiles turns on the water at the sink to rinse out his mouth and splash some on his face, Scott asks, “Are you okay? Well, I mean, I know you’re not okay. You just threw up, but why did you throw up?”

Stiles releases a heavy sigh, accepting the paper towel Scott hands him to dry off his face. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure there was something wrong with that sandwich I ate yesterday. I was feeling kind of funky last night, but I just figured it was from the long practice, not a mild case of food poisoning.”

“You should probably go home if you’re feeling bad,” Scott suggests. “One cancelled practice isn’t going to kill us.”

Stiles quickly shakes his head but immediately regrets the action when it makes him dizzy. “No, absolutely not. I’m good, Scotty, no way am I cancelling practices with so much on the line.”

He’d been texting with Danny and Kira just a few minutes before a certain someone bumped into him in the hallway. They’d informed him that they and Finstock had talked to Principal Davis that morning and managed to persuade the older man into giving Spin Cycle a chance to win their regionals before discussing with the board again plans to either end or save the dance team. Stiles should’ve been at the meeting as well but woke up late after barely getting a wink of sleep the night before.

“If you insist, but you’ll tell me if you’re still feeling shitty by this afternoon, right?” Scott inquires, and Stiles nods.

“You got it.”

“Good.” Stiles starts to leave the bathroom, but Scott places a hand on his arm to stop him. “Now that we’ve gotten that out the way. I wanted to ask you, what’s going on between you and Derek Hale?”

Stiles can feel his face burning just from the mention of the basketball player but if Scott points it out he’ll just say it’s the residual effects of the food poisoning. Stiles had been so preoccupied trying to pull himself together before class started, he’d been unprepared for the sight of Derek Hale up-close and personal so early in the morning.

And despite what Derek believed, he had been the one to knock into Stiles, not the other way around. He’d been the one holding onto Stiles’ waist, skimming his fingertips over his hipbones, fixing his gaze on Stiles’ mouth, and…no, just no. Stiles stops that train of thought almost as soon as it starts; he refuses to even go there because just the idea of what he’s considering is ridiculous, completely ridiculous.

Scott is staring at him expectedly, waiting for an answer to his question, but instead of replying, Stiles counters with a question of his own. “Why would you even ask something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because stuff’s been happening between you and him lately. History and gym class yesterday ringing a bell?” Scott taps him on the forehead and Stiles swats at his hand.

“How do you even know about what happened in gym? I didn’t tell you anything.”

His friend chuckles. “Oh please, you know Danny can’t hold water, and anyway, stop dodging the question. I saw you two out in the hallway just now. You looked a _little_ closer than usual.”

Stiles is quick to respond, “That’s because he bumped into me! Scott, you know the guy doesn’t like me and the feeling’s more than mutual, so can we just drop this particular conversation off the nearest cliff, please? It’s starting to make me feel worse than the food poisoning.”

Scott narrows an eye at him, and Stiles mutters a curse under his breath because they’ve been best friends for _way_ too long, and Scott can _always_ see through his bullshit. Case in point. “I’ll drop it…for now, but I know something’s going on with you and Derek, more than the usual ‘I hate him, he hates me’ nonsense.”

“ _Nonsense_?!” Stiles yells in disbelief, but Scott doesn’t even flinch, just lifts an eyebrow at him in a “Who are you trying to fool?” sort of way that annoys him to no end. “I’m going to class, and we’re never discussing _him_ —”

Scott interrupts him, “Derek Hale, it’s okay, you can say his name.”

“We’re not discussing him!”

Scott laughs at his outburst and pats him on the shoulder genially. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, dude.”

He walks out ahead of him, leaving Stiles to curse again. Maybe he _should_ go home. Having to face Derek in fourth period doesn’t sound particularly appealing to the young man, but if he runs he knows the basketball player will just have another excuse to mess with him, and Stiles doesn’t want that. So, instead of leaving, Stiles steels himself and walks out of the bathroom ready to face whatever gets thrown his way.

The first half of the day goes fairly smoothly. Stiles argues with his English teacher, Ms. Blake, about the end of _White Noise_ , successfully creates an omelet in his culinary arts class, and only gets rewarded with an angry glare when he corrects one of the formulas Harris writes on the board during chemistry. The problems start to come into play after chemistry ends and Stiles is forced to make the trek to his history class.

Stiles walks _slow_ , slower than slow, slow enough that Lydia turns to Stiles and prods him with her finger before asking, “What’s going on with you?”

“My feet hurt,” he lies, and Lydia frowns at him.

“I’m wearing six-inch heels and my feet feel fine, so let’s try this again, what’s going on with you?”

Stiles replies, “Nothing.”

Lydia turns her gaze on Scott, arching an eyebrow at him. “Scott?”

Stiles quickly shakes his head, running a hand across his throat, and Scott nods in understanding before answering. “Hmm? Oh, I’m not at liberty to say, but it’s pretty obvious what his deal is.”

Scott has the nerve to grin, and Stiles scowls at him. He’s about to snap at him about the bro code and such but realizes they’re standing outside their history class and quickly shuts his mouth. Of course Derek and his friends are already there sitting in their own seats this time. Stiles tries really hard _not_ to look at Derek, but his eyes instinctively land on him. However, he’s not expecting Derek to be staring right back at him though.

Stiles has to be seeing things because there’s a look on the young man’s face that can only be described as longing but that can’t be right. Stiles knows that Derek Hale definitely isn’t the type to do any longing, especially any directed at _him_. He’s correct in his assumption because the look fades from the basketball player’s face just as quickly as it got there, replaced with his usual smirk.

“What are you looking at, Stiles?” Derek asks, and Stiles nearly trips over his desk at being addressed by him directly.

Stiles shakes his head, tuning out Lydia’s very loud and very exaggerated, “ _Oh_ , I should’ve known!” and Scott’s soft chuckles beside him, before answering, “Nothing, not a thing, just making sure you’re not planning on bumping into me again.”

“ _You_ bumped into _me_ ,” Derek insists, and Stiles snorts.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that, Derek.”

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, Derek ducks his head, suddenly engrossed in his textbook, and Stiles is confused. Once it appears Derek’s done talking, Stiles sits down in his seat, still perplexed about what just happened, why Derek ended their conversation so abruptly. But then Stiles remembers it’s Derek Hale, whose main goal in life is to mess with him, and scoffs at his own stupidity.

The rest of Stiles’ day moves by quickly. He gets an A on his trigonometry quiz but best of all, he manages to avoid Derek completely in their gym class. Stiles plays volleyball with Danny and Allison while Derek, Boyd, and Jackson shoot around on the basketball court all the way on the other side of the gym.

At the end of the day, Stiles changes into his practice clothes and heads down to the basement. When he gets to the room, Stiles finds his group of friends in a much better mood than they were yesterday, laughing and joking with one another, and a feeling of relief washes over him causing him to grin.

Stiles is still smiling at the group when Danny says to him, “I don’t get how you’re the captain when you’re always the last one to get here.”

Stiles shakes his head, walking further into the room and joining his friends in front of the mirrored walls so he can start stretching. “Oh, Danny Boy, I’m always the last one to get here _because_ I’m the captain.”

Lydia’s tying up her strawberry blonde hair into a messy bun as she asks, “You know that statement makes absolutely no sense, right?”

He nods at her. “Exactly.”

“ _That_ made no sense either,” Kira chimes in, and Stiles shrugs.

“I’m the captain; I do what I want.”

Allison points a finger at him, flashing a dimpled smile. “And there’s the Stiles we know and love!”

Danny raises his hand. “I plead the fifth on the love part of that statement.”

Stiles gives him a scandalized look. “ _Rude_ , Danny, I thought we meant more to each other than that.”

Danny laughs obnoxiously in response and when Stiles frowns, Scott claps him on the back, telling him, “Well, I love you, bro.”

Stiles sniffles dramatically, pulling his best friend into a hug. “Thanks, buddy, at least I know I can always count on you, unlike _some people_.” He throws a glare at Danny, who’s not the least bit fazed by it.

The two friends are still embracing when Allison says to Kira, “This is what happens when you’re with Scott; you’re not just dating him, you’re dating Stiles too.”

Kira releases a low sigh. “It can be a bit weird sometimes, but I’ve accepted it.”

Stiles pulls back from Scott to exclaim, “Hey, hey, hey! Scott and I are _best friends_. We are not weird, okay?” A moment passes when no one says anything until Stiles speaks again. “Oh, Scott, I got that ointment you wanted because I know your back’s been bothering you.”

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.”

The pair hug again, and Lydia gestures between them and asks, “So, this is you two _not_ being weird?”

When the friends separate, Stiles says, “Let’s just get started, okay? Finstock said she couldn’t make it today because she had a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t ask her to elaborate.”

“That was probably a good idea,” Danny says.

Stiles nods in agreement as he takes out his phone and hooks it up to the stereo sitting in the corner of the room. “Yeah, I figured it was best for me not to know. Anyway, today we’re working on the Katy Perry mix. Kira and Danny, you start us off, then Allison and Lydia, and last but not least, me and Scotty.”

The group nods in agreement, getting into their places before the thumping beat of _Dark Horse_ begins. This particular dance starts with Kira and Danny front and center, leading the group through some hip-hop moves to the Katy and Juicy J track.

The song changes halfway into the slower _Unconditionally_ and it’s Lydia’s and Allison’s turn in the spotlight. The girls show off some impressive contemporary moves before _Roar_ starts up. Stiles and Scott take the lead during the last song as they break into a unique mix of pop/jazz steps.

They have to go over the routine several times in a row because the transitions between the different styles of dance aren’t working as well as they hoped. When the dance team does finally finish up their practice, they’re all exhausted but pleased with their work.

“Okay, so now my feet actually _do_ hurt,” Stiles complains after he and his friends climb the stairs back up to the ground level of the school and start walking to the exit. “I’m pretty sure I need a nice, long massage to recover from that practice.”

“Well, there’s someone who can help you out with that,” Lydia says with a smirk and Stiles raises an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, really, are you offering?”

The young woman levels him with a bored look. “Not me, you dolt.”

She points past him to the end of the hallway where Derek and his teammates are coming out of the locker room together. Stiles groans, wondering if the universe is playing some cruel joke on him. Why is it that the two of them keep ending up in the same place at the same time?

Stiles is about to make a mad dash back in the opposite direction when it suddenly occurs to him what Lydia was suggesting a few moments ago. “I do _not_ want a massage from _Derek Hale_ ,” he hisses and his friend chuckles.

“You _so_ do, but if _you’re_ not going to take advantage of an attractive jock, then _I_ will.” Stiles’ eyebrows furrow in confusion until Lydia calls out to Jackson, “Hey, you!”

Jackson turns to answer her, an appreciative look crossing his face when he sees Lydia. “Yeah?”

“Buy me dinner; it’s not a request,” Lydia demands without a single care in the world, and Jackson grins, shrugging at his friends before joining her, offering the young woman his arm.

“I can never say no to a pretty face,” he says as they turn to leave.

She laughs lightly. “Oh, sweetheart, I am _so_ much more than a pretty face, but you’ll learn.” Lydia accepts Jackson’s arm, and Stiles watches them leave in disbelief. “If you see something you want, _take it_ ,” she tells her friend before she and Jackson exit the school together.

Stiles snorts, nudging Scott with his elbow. “Lydia's nuts, right? Gorgeous, brilliant, and a little bit scary, but still nuts, right?”

Scott checks his watch, which in reality is just his empty wrist, and then grabs Kira’s hand. “Oh, would you look at the time? Let’s go, Kira.”

Stiles barely has a chance to open his mouth to ask where they’re going and if he can come with them when the couple flies out the door. Confused and a little offended by his friend’s actions, he’s about to speak to Allison when Stiles notices she’s giggling with Isaac and leaving with him.

Of course, Danny disappears from his side a moment later but not before giving him a not-so-gentle, or subtle, shove in Derek’s direction. Derek is talking to Boyd, and for some reason, looks a bit panicked. Boyd gives him a pat on the back and then walks away, past Stiles, to the exit. Stiles is almost sure he hears Boyd let out a low murmur that sounds a lot like, “Good luck” right before he departs.

Stiles glances around the hallway, suddenly aware of the fact he and Derek are alone and that just won’t do. Stiles lifts a hand, waving in the basketball player’s direction. “Well, have a good night!” His words are a lot louder than necessary considering Derek isn’t even that far away, but Stiles doesn’t care. He just knows he needs to go… _now_!

He has just turned on his heel to run, despite the pain in his feet, when Derek calls his name. “Stiles.”

The young man squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a sigh. Stiles is a glutton for punishment because he finds himself spinning back around to face Derek, who’s a whole lot closer to him than he was just a few seconds ago.

Stiles offers him a weak smile as he says, “You rang?”

Derek grins at him; it’s the same one from last night, and Stiles feels like someone has dropped a ton of bricks in his stomach. “Your hair looks ridiculous,” he says, surprising Stiles when he reaches up to swipe his hand across the hair, still damp from the shower and lying flat, sticking to his forehead.

Goosebumps travel up both of Stiles’ arms from just the small touch, and he tries, rather unsuccessfully, not to shiver. Derek’s fingers are still gliding through his hair, and Stiles notes that his eyes are a bit glazed over and about half a shade darker than they normally are, not that he’s paying that much attention to the color of Derek’s eyes.

“Yeah, well, not all of us are lucky enough to be able to do strenuous amounts of work and still look like a freaking _runway model_ ,” Stiles blurts, immediately regretting his choice of words but blaming his lapse in judgment on Derek’s magic fingers and the way they’re massaging his scalp.

Derek responds to his comment with a soft laugh and a small shake of his head that catches Stiles off-guard. He has to keep his wits about him but something about the way Derek is looking at him, and touching him, is making the task nearly impossible.

Trying to regain some level of control over this conversation, even though Derek has only said five words to him since it started, Stiles asks, “Did you…Did you call my name for a reason or…?”

“ _Nah_ , not really,” Derek replies offhandedly, finally stopping his actions and letting his hand drop back down to his side, “just wanted to make fun of your hair.”

Stiles frowns, running a self-conscious hand through his messy locks. “Oh great, thanks for that.”

There’s that smile again. The real one that makes Derek’s eyes crinkle in a sort of adorable way and makes Stiles wish his face could just stay that way because the basketball player looks so much better like that…not that he’s noticed or anything.

“You…um, looked pretty sick this morning after you bumped into me,” Derek comments randomly and Stiles wonders what made him bring up the incident from earlier.

Stiles has been trying not to think about it…really he has. He hasn’t been letting his mind wander to way it felt to have Derek touching him or the fact that he apparently isn’t bothered by Stiles thinking about him, even though he’s the farthest thing from the young dancer’s mind.

Stiles is still wondering if maybe he didn’t just imagine that whole scenario from this morning. There’s no possible way that Derek, of all people, would ever say anything like that to him unless he was messing with him again which was probably the case.

“You bumped into me,” Stiles reminds him. When Derek doesn’t argue with him, he adds, “And yeah, I was sick, but it was just a mild case of food poisoning. Whatever was in this sandwich I ate last night didn’t agree with me.”

Derek’s eyes widen and he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Food poisoning? That’s great.”

And there he is, right on cue, typical Derek Hale, the one who takes pleasure in his pain, and Stiles can’t even believe he almost fooled himself into thinking they might actually be getting to a better place in whatever-the-hell-it-is that they are.

“You think it’s great that I had food poisoning?” Stiles questions, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Well, _that’s_ not surprising at all.”

He laughs humorlessly, especially when Derek has the gall to actually look upset with himself. “Stiles, no. I didn’t mean—”

Stiles cuts him off to say, “Yeah, I’m gonna go. You enjoy the rest of your night, Derek, though I’m sure it can’t get much better than this. I know how much you get off on making me feel like an idiot.”

“Stiles, wait—”

The young man is already out the door before Derek can get another word out, grumbling all the way to his jeep about stupid boys with stupidly sweet smiles and stupidly beautiful eyes.

Once he’s inside his vehicle, Stiles bashes his head against the steering wheel four times and then just lets it stay there. He makes a decision at this very moment not to even attempt to socialize with Derek Hale again.

“Going down that road leads to madness,” Stiles mutters, sitting up to start the jeep so he can go home, sleep, and purge his thoughts of a certain basketball player.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 coming as soon as possible!


	6. Another Misstep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek laments his failed attempt to progress his relationship with Stiles. Things couldn't possibly get any worse between them, right?

“You actually _said that to him_ ,” Cora screeches from her spot at the foot of the bed. “Oh Derek, this is just getting _sad_.”

“This whole thing passed sad a _long_ time ago. Derek’s heading into hopelessly pathetic territory,” Erica says; she’s perched on Derek’s window seat, filing her nails when she’s supposed to be doing her algebra homework.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Boyd chimes in, reclining on the floor beside where Erica is, absentmindedly running his hand over her ankle. “At least D is making an effort to talk to him as opposed to just pining away for him from afar like he’s been doing.”

“That would be great if he could manage to talk to Stiles _without_ putting his foot in his mouth,” Erica points out, and Cora laughs.

“That’s highly unlikely.”

Derek is sprawled out on his bed and reaches for one of his pillows so he can cover his head with it. Boyd and Erica had come over to his house that night to study with him and Cora respectively. But somehow their study session had turned into a conversation about him and Stiles. Derek presses the pillow over his ears, hoping to block out their in-depth discussion about how he keeps screwing things up with Stiles.

Of course he hadn’t _meant_ to just blurt out how happy he was that Stiles had food poisoning. At least not without explaining _why_ he was so happy about it, that he was relieved he wasn’t the cause of Stiles’ sickness. But, as usual, Derek managed to make a fool of himself in front of the love of his life and sent him running in the opposite direction.

“He _hates_ me,” Derek whines pathetically from under the pillow and his friends’ conversation ends abruptly. The pillow is pulled away from his face, and he’s greeted with the sight of all three of them peering down at him with sympathetic expressions.

“Stiles doesn’t _hate_ you,” Cora assures him.

“But you don’t exactly make it easy for him to _like_ you either,” Erica adds, and Derek groans, reclaiming his pillow so he can smother himself with it.

“I should just ask mom and dad if they’d let me be homeschooled for the rest of the year,” he says loud enough for his friends to hear. “Charlie did it and look at him now.” Derek and Cora’s older brother, Charlie, is an attorney at a successful law firm in New York.

Cora grabs the pillow again, rolling her eyes at him. “You’re not getting homeschooled, you big baby. You’re going back to _our_ school tomorrow, and you’re going to deal with Stiles.”

“He’s not gonna want to talk to me,” Derek points out with a sigh. Stiles had made it perfectly clear earlier that he was more than done with his shit and at this point Derek can’t even fault him for it.

“Well, then we’ll make him talk,” Erica says, eyes narrowed and threatening, and if Derek didn’t know her so well, the look on her face would scare him more. Actually, he can’t lie, Derek’s just a little bit afraid of Erica and what she’d do to Stiles given the opportunity.

Boyd must have the same thought because he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her temple sweetly as he says, “No threatening the guy our best friend is in love with, okay?”

She pouts but agrees to his terms. “ _Fine_.”

“I kept her at bay,” Boyd points to Erica and then at Derek, “so that means you have to talk to Stiles.”

Derek places both hands in his hair, pulling at it in distress. Derek can’t talk to Stiles, like, literally, he _can’t_ talk to Stiles because whenever he does, he says something stupid to him. Derek will probably blurt out the first thing that comes to mind and end up pissing off Stiles and embarrassing himself at the same time. But Derek remembers his mother’s words, and he wants to give himself a chance, even if the last time he tried led Stiles to flee from him in a hurry.

“Yeah, okay, all right, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Derek finally says after an intense war with himself. He then stands up suddenly from the bed, grabs a pair of sneakers, his phone, and his earbuds before heading to the door. “But right now, I gotta get out of here for a minute, clear my head.”

The trio is about to trail after him, but he puts up a hand to stop them. “Alone. I’ll be back later. Cora, don’t you dare use this time to call Laura and tell her anything about what’s going on.”

Cora nods in agreement. “Okay, I’ll call Laura and tell her everything that’s going on and put her on speaker phone so me, Erica, and her can all laugh at you together.”

Derek scowls at her. “That’s not even what I—” Both Erica and his younger sister grin at him, and he just throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, whatever, I should be used to this by now, right?”

All three of them reply in unison, “Yes,” though Boyd adds, “I’ll try my best to defend your honor, D.”

“Thanks, Boyd. You two are the worst.” He points to Cora and Erica, who both look as though they couldn’t care less what he thinks, before walking out of his room and heading downstairs. Derek calls out to his mother and father that he’ll be back before curfew and leaves the house.

Once he gets outside, Derek slips his earbuds in, cranks up his music, and takes off running. Now _this_ he can do. Derek loves running, loves the freedom of it, loves the way the air rushes in and out of his lungs, even loves the way his legs burn when he’s been going for too long. At this time of night, he usually sticks to running around the property, with the twenty acres of land his family’s estate sits on, there’s definitely enough space.

Tonight, however, Derek finds himself running around the town instead, passing the local market, city hall, and the library without stopping once to take a breath. The police station is on the next corner and fuck his life because a very familiar-looking jeep is parked out front, and Derek swears someone somewhere is doing this to him on purpose.

He stops in front of the station, pulls his earbuds from his ears and runs in place to keep his heart rate up. Derek knows the _smart_ thing to do would be to keep going, run right past and not look back. He doesn’t want to bump into the sheriff’s son and end up getting himself killed because the boy’s father decides to take him out with his sidearm.

But Derek hardly ever does the _smart_ thing in these types of situations. The young man finds that he can’t move away, not yet at least. He just stands there, hoping against hope that Stiles comes walking out of that station with a smile on his face and his hair still ridiculously floppy…and, of course, that he doesn’t call his father outside to shoot him on sight.

As if someone heard his plea, Stiles does coming strolling out of the building right at that moment, and Derek’s throat closes up and his stomach does flip-flops like it usually does whenever he’s around. Unfortunately for the basketball player, Stiles isn’t alone, but he’s not even with his father. He’s walking to his jeep with that new deputy, Derek never took the time out to learn his name, who recently moved into town.

Stiles is laughing and smiling with _him_ in a way he’s never done with Derek. Granted, most of his interactions with Stiles have been less than friendly but still. Derek can feel the green-eyed monster creeping up on him and it’s making him irrational. He can’t possibly be blamed for what he does next.

“Stiles!” Derek calls out, jogging over to greet him with a huge smile.

Upon seeing Derek, Stiles’ face changes from bright red to stark white in a matter of seconds. He tries to speak but the only sounds that come out of his mouth are a bunch of nonsensical noises which works in Derek’s favor because that means he can’t send him away.

“Is this a friend of yours, Stiles?” The deputy questions and Derek’s eyes narrow when he notices the way the older man steps protectively in front of Stiles, like Derek would ever do anything to hurt him.

Stiles doesn’t reply, not that he would seeing as though he seems to be having trouble getting his mouth to form sentences, so Derek does it for him. “Stiles and I go to school together. We’ve known each other for four years now. How long have _you_ lived here?” Stiles squeaks when Derek directs his question at the deputy in a not-so-friendly manner.

“A few months, but I’m still settling in. Stiles and his father have been very welcoming.” He grins at Stiles, and no, this is something Derek is definitely _not_ okay with, not at all.

Derek extends his hand out to the deputy to shake, formally introducing himself. “I’m Derek Hale.”

The deputy accepts his hand and if Derek maybe squeezes it a little tighter than necessary, it’s…probably not on accident. “Kyle Parrish. So, you’re one of the famous Hales; I’ve heard a lot about your family. Only good things, of course.”

“Well, that’s interesting because I haven’t heard _one single thing_ about you,” Derek states with a smirk but then promptly gets the wind knocked out of him by Stiles, who gives him a good hard push to the chest.

“Excuse us, Kyle,” Stiles says after spending the last few minutes speechless.

“Nice meeting you— _oof_!” 

Derek’s words are cut off by another firm push from Stiles, who’s a lot stronger than he looks. Derek will have to file that information in the back of his mind for later; his thoughts momentarily drifting to the idea of Stiles maybe pushing _him_ up against a wall and having his way with Derek.

Derek comes back to reality once Stiles has herded him away and they’re standing behind his jeep. Stiles immediately snaps at him. “ _What are you doing_?”

Derek points to himself incredulously. “ _Me_? What are _you_ doing? That’s your dad’s deputy!”

Stiles stares at him in disbelief before he starts ranting at him again. “ _So_? What does that have to do with anything?” He questions, and Derek crosses his arms with a huff.

“What is he, like, ten, fifteen years older than you.”

The look Stiles gives him screams “unimpressed” as he replies, “Kyle’s twenty-four, and I still fail to see what the problem is.”

“Are you really gonna go after a guy that works with your dad and who looks…like that?!”

Derek gestures wildly in Kyle’s direction while Stiles lifts an eyebrow at him. Objectively speaking, Derek supposes _someone_ might think the deputy is attractive with his sandy blond hair and green eyes but whatever. He’s not doing anything for Derek, and he prays he’s not doing anything for Stiles either.

“Oh right, he’s hideous,” Stiles says, tone obviously sarcastic, and Derek frowns at him. “What is this, Derek?” He asks suddenly, catching the young man flat-footed. “What are you even doing here?”

“I was out for a run,” he responds like that just explains everything but Stiles isn’t buying it, and why would he when it’s the worst excuse ever.

“Your family has a shitload of property you could use for running, so why are you here?”

Derek dodges his question by posing one of his own. “Exactly how much _do_ you know about my family’s estate?”

Stiles waves a hand in front of his face. “Not really the point, Derek, so let’s try this one more time. _Why_ are you _here_?”

Derek swallows hard, running a hand over the back of his neck. He’s trying to think of some plausible excuse as to why he not only ended up in front of the police station but why he stayed there long enough to run into Stiles. Derek could tell him the truth, that he wanted to see Stiles, talk to him, apologize for all the shit he’s pulled over the years, and then kiss him senseless. But, of course, Derek _never_ says the right things around Stiles.

“I just…wanted to know if your stomach was feeling any better,” he replies, a small grin crossing his lips, and Stiles shakes his head.

“Sure, of course, I should’ve known. Why would I be surprised?” Derek watches Stiles pace in front of him for a moment. He almost considers taking back what he said and revealing the truth when Stiles speaks again. “You don’t…You don’t get to do this, okay?”

Derek’s face falls when he hears the small break in the young man’s voice, and he whispers a soft apology. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles scoffs indignantly. “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry. You just walk around doing whatever you want, not even worrying about how it affects other people, and I just…I’m done. I’m not even sure what it is I’m done with, I just know I can’t be around you so please, just leave me alone.”

Stiles doesn’t even give Derek the chance to respond. He just walks away, waves one last time at Deputy Parrish, and then gets into his jeep. The vehicle starts up after the second try and he pulls out of the parking lot. Derek just stands there for a moment after Stiles leaves, somewhere between wanting to yell or burst into tears.

Deputy Parrish is still on the sidewalk near the parking lot, and he gives Derek this look that says, “It’s okay. I get it” and the young man is suddenly feeling sorry that he ever tried to insult him.

Derek sighs heavily, unsure of what he thought he could accomplish by cornering Stiles in front of his father’s place of work other than making things worse between them. He heads back in the direction of his house, seriously considering talking to his parents about that homeschooling idea.

When Derek returns home, Boyd’s car is no longer in the driveway, and he can’t help feeling a little relieved. Of course he doesn’t _have_ to share with his friends what happened between him and Stiles. But they know him so well that the minute he walks through the door Boyd and Erica would know something was bothering him and jump all over him about it. Well, _Erica_ would jump all over him about it; Boyd would just be an innocent bystander who occasionally puts in his two cents.

Derek enters the house through the kitchen with intentions of just grabbing a bottle of Gatorade and retiring to his room. He _almost_ makes it. Derek has just closed the refrigerator door when Talia waves to him from her seat at the breakfast bar. She’s sipping from her favorite “World’s Greatest Mom” mug and looks quite content despite the whole countertop being covered with paperwork pertaining to the charity.

“Hi, Derek. Did you have a nice run?”

Derek nods, taking a long gulp of Gatorade before answering, “Yup. Well, good night.”

He starts to make a beeline for the stairs, but his mother’s voice stops him.

“Hold on a minute, Little Mister. You look like you have something you need to talk about.”

Derek turns back to shake his head at her. “Nope, not really.”

All it takes is one knowing look from Talia, and the young man’s sighing softly crossing the room to sit beside her. Once he’s seated, Derek fiddles with the Gatorade bottle to give his hands something to do, tearing at the label as he speaks.

“I thought Stiles and I were starting to get somewhere, but I screwed it up, as usual. Maybe I should just let him go.” It’s painful for Derek to even say the words even if they might be what make the most sense.

“Derek, you’ve liked this boy since freshmen year,” Talia points out, “do you really see yourself just giving up on him?”

Derek doesn’t reply right away, but he knows the answer, knows it in every bone in his body; he knows it with all his heart. He could never give up on Stiles, not it in a million years, not even if Stiles starts dating someone…and fuck if the idea of him with someone else isn’t like a shot to the gut.

Derek can’t imagine ever being with anyone other than Stiles and that probably sounds crazy considering they’re both still in high school and have their whole lives ahead of him. But the young man knows what he wants, what he’s always wanted, what he’ll want for the rest of his life, and that’s to be with Stiles.

“No,” he finally responds, “I don’t want to give up on him.”

“Then don’t,” his mother says simply and then adds, “but maybe try a _little bit_ harder to think about what you’re saying _before_ saying it to him.”

The young man chuckles softly, standing up from his seat. “Sounds like a plan. Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, Little Mister.”

Derek goes up to his room and collapses on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He feels sleep begin to overtake him but not before he has one last thought, that no matter how hopeless things seem, and they definitely seem pretty hopeless, Derek’s not giving up on love and he’s not giving up on Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a last minute decision to throw Parrish in there, but jealous Derek is a thing I love so I ran with it. I couldn’t help myself. But it turns out Parrish is as much of a Sterek shipper as the rest of us. Chapter 7 coming as soon as possible!


	7. We Keep Doing the Two-Step Around Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Lydia suggest something to Stiles, and he's on board with it. Then Lydia makes another suggestion, but Stiles isn't quite as receptive to the idea.

Stiles knew he should’ve just gone straight home after practice. Something kept telling him not to be a loving, considerate son and check on his father, who Stiles knew would be holed up at the station for the night and would appreciate dinner.

He should’ve just sent his dad a quick text. He should’ve just let him know he was okay and then called Shirley at the receptionist desk to remind her not to let the sheriff anywhere near the takeout menus posted in the employee lounge.

But, _no_ , Stiles just _had_ to drive over to the station, turkey burgers and salads in tow, to have a meal with his father and bug him about the stack of folders on his desk containing Beacon Hills’ unsolved cases. Stiles didn’t expect to barge into his dad’s office and find him in the middle of a conversation with Deputy Parrish.

Stiles has talked to the young officer a few times since he started working for the police department and found him to be a pretty nice guy. Kyle will probably make some lucky guy very happy in the near future, but for Stiles he’s just someone friendly to talk to and another person at the station to watch out for his dad.

The three of them had dinner together; Stiles and Kyle spent most of time arguing about which _Star Wars_ movie is the best. It was after ten when the sheriff insisted that Stiles get home so he could get some sleep and that he’d see him in the morning for breakfast. Kyle insisted on walking Stiles out to his jeep and they’d been joking about how chivalry isn’t dead when Derek came out of nowhere, shocking the hell out of Stiles with his sudden appearance.

What the hell was Derek _thinking_ , showing up unannounced like that? Then he had the nerve to act like an ass to Kyle, one of the nicest guys on the planet aside from Scott, for no reason and Stiles just doesn’t get it. But then again, it’s _Derek Hale_ , and the young dancer can’t be expected to understand anything that’s going on in his head.

Fortunately for Stiles the rest of the week flies by in a blur. He attends his classes, practices for regionals, hangs with his friends, and keeps his dad company at the station. Stiles only sees Derek in the two classes they share and he notices the basketball player is going out of his way to stay as far away from Stiles as possible…which doesn’t bother Stiles _at all_ , not in the slightest. He’s the one who told Derek to leave him alone after all; he just didn’t expect him to actually follow through on it.

Friday morning Stiles is sitting in one of the school’s courtyards finishing up his trig homework when Scott and Lydia slide onto the bench on either side of him. Stiles looks up from his textbook to glance between his two best friends, a weary look crossing his face.

“Oh no, this can’t be good,” Stiles says, putting his work aside to focus on the pair instead.

“Why do you always assume the worst?” Lydia asks, and Stiles laughs.

“Because it’s you two…together, it can only be bad. I’m surprised Danny’s not with you to complete the trifecta.”

“He had to talk to one of his teachers otherwise he would’ve been here,” Scott reveals, and Stiles is unsurprised by this news. “Anyway, the three of us were talking, and we were thinking—”

Stiles cuts him off to sing, “ _A dangerous pastime_.”

Scott gives his friend a strange look. “Dude, not really the time for a _Beauty and the Beast_ reference.”

The young man gasps dramatically. “It’s _always_ the time for a _Beauty and the Beast_ reference. Don’t you two know me at all?”

“Unfortunately, we do, and maybe just a tad bit too well in my opinion,” Lydia says, and Stiles frowns. “So, as Scott was saying before you interrupted with your musical interlude, he, Danny, and I were talking, and we think if we’re going to have any chance of winning regionals, we need to recruit some new members.”

“What do you think?” Scott asks, and Stiles nods in agreement.

“It’s a great idea; the only problem is _no one_ wants to join Spin Cycle,” he reminds them.

Lydia says, “We don’t know that for sure. People could be more interested than they were at the beginning of the year when we first held tryouts.”

“And even if no one shows up, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?” Scott says with a half-shrug.

“I guess not,” Stiles responds before adding, “we really could use a fresh take on things and getting some new members could definitely help. I’ll talk to Finstock later; I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it. I can get started on some fliers tonight and we can start holding tryouts next week.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Lydia states suddenly, catching the young man by surprise. “You’ll have plenty of time to work on the fliers tomorrow. The only thing you’re doing tonight is coming with us to the game and going out with us afterwards.”

Stiles immediately shakes his head no. The last place he would _ever_ go is to a Beacon Hills basketball game. One, because he’s not that big of a basketball fan though he does enjoy watching some of the attractive players running up and down the court in their shorts. And, two, because Stiles knows if he shows up at the game tonight, there’s a chance he might run into Derek.

Though they’ve been doing a fairly good job of staying out of each other’s way, Stiles has a feeling that his good luck will only last so long. He doesn’t want to chance going to the game and getting into another unnecessary confrontation with the basketball player. So, no, if there’s one thing Stiles isn’t doing tonight, it’s going to that game.

Stiles and his friends stand up from their seats on the bench. The bell is close to ringing and they all need to start moving if they want to get to their first period classes on time. “I appreciate the invitation, guys, I really do, but I think I should get started on those fliers. Plus, I could be working on a routine for tryouts.”

Scott waves a dismissive hand. “The flier will take about ten minutes to put together, and we don’t need a new routine for tryouts. We can just use one of our old ones; it’ll be fine. We all know the real reason why you don’t want to go to that game tonight…and he’s coming this way.”

Stiles looks confused for a moment before he realizes that Derek is walking down the hall with his sister and Isaac, heading in their direction. Stiles lets out a high-pitched yelp when he sees him and crouches down behind Lydia, as if the shorter and thinner young woman could hide him out of Derek’s sight.

Isaac and Cora roll their eyes at Stiles’ behavior and walk past without commenting, but Derek actually stops to speak to them. “Hey, Scott. Lydia.”

They wave at him in greeting, but Stiles doesn't move. Derek peeks over Lydia’s shoulder at Stiles and shakes his head at him, muttering something under his breath that sounds like “You’re an idiot” before jogging to catch up with Cora and Isaac.

Once Stiles is sure Derek’s far enough away, he returns to his full height and breathes a sigh of relief. “You don’t think he saw me, do you?” He asks his friends, and they glance sideways at each other.

“ _No_ , of course not,” Lydia drawls, her words dripping in sarcasm. “It made _so_ much more sense to hide behind _me_ instead of Scott.”

“Thought so. _Nailed it_ ,” Stiles says confidently.

Lydia opens her mouth to comment but thinks better of it instead saying, “ _Yeah_ , I’m gonna go. I’ll see you guys in chemistry.” She walks away but calls out over her shoulder, “And you’re going with us to that game tonight, Stiles!”

“No, I’m not!” He shouts back, but Lydia ignores him. “Can you believe her?” Stiles says to Scott, who claps him on the shoulder.

“Accept your fate, man; you’re going to that game.”

Scott leaves without another word, and Stiles’ mouth falls open at the audacity of his friends. They can’t just force him to go somewhere he doesn’t want to go, can they? Can they?

Apparently they can. Later that night Stiles finds himself sitting on the bleachers in the gym of Beacon Hills’ High with his group of friends watching the Cyclones warm up before their game against the Sunnydale High Razorbacks starts. He doesn’t want to be here. Stiles went straight home after the last bell, but Scott and Lydia showed up at his house around six and basically dragged him back to the school. At least Allison and Kira had watched them do it with guilty expressions; Danny had just laughed at him.

Stiles glances down the row at his friends, scowling at Scott and Lydia as he says, “I can’t believe you guys forced me to come here.”

Lydia disagrees. “Nobody _forced_ you; you hardly even put up that much of a fight.”

Stiles reminds her in a loud voice, “I made myself heavy and held onto my bed; I’m pretty sure that counts as me putting up a fight! I could be home right now, working on the fliers but _no_ , I’m here suffering through this basketball game with you guys.”

Danny rolls his eyes at him so hard Stiles wonders how they manage to stay in his head. “Oh whatever, Stiles, you can stop with the righteous indignation. We all know you want to be here, and we all know why. It has everything to do with the attractive man in the number 31 jersey…who just happens to be staring at you.”

“ _What_?!”

Stiles nearly breaks his neck from how quickly he turns his head to scan the court. Sure enough, he spots Derek standing near the sideline with Boyd and Jackson. Jackson’s speaking, probably saying something douche-y, Stiles suspects, but Derek’s not paying attention to him. His eyes are locked on Stiles; he doesn’t appear angry or upset, but he doesn’t look happy either.

If Stiles had to describe his expression, he’d say Derek looks more determined than anything else. His gaze doesn’t leave Stiles until Coach Finstock calls the team over to give them his usual pre-game pep talk, which is just him telling the young men to score more points than the other team and not get themselves hurt.

Stiles slinks down in his seat, burying his face in his hands once it appears that Derek is more focused on the game than him. He should _not_ be here right now. Kira surprises him with her comment. “He has got it _bad_ for you, my friend.”

Stiles lifts his head up from his hands to gape at the young woman. “ _Kira Yukimura_! Not you too!”

“Just calling it like I see it,” she adds and their friends laugh while Stiles crosses his arms with a huff.

Derek doesn’t like Stiles. He hates him. Stiles knows that. Everyone knows that except for his friends. This is just what Derek does, puts on an act like he actually might give two shits about Stiles and then does something to remind the young dancer why the two of them will never be friends, why they’ll never be anything.

Beacon Hills wins the game by a wide margin, and Derek is one of the main reasons why. He put on a show for the fans, scoring on every basket, grabbing rebounds, and playing defense. Stiles hears a junior boy who covers the basketball team for the school newspaper telling his companion that he’s never seen Derek play that well before. He manages to shatter all of his personal records as well as a few of the school’s records in one night, and Stiles can’t pretend he’s unimpressed.

The team is celebrating their victory out on the court. Music is pouring out of the speakers and everyone in the general vicinity is up dancing, including Stiles, who can never resist a hard-hitting beat. However, he freezes when his eyes land back on the court and he catches sight of Derek again. Stiles’ mouth would probably drop through the floor if it were possible because he can’t believe what he’s witnessing.

Derek Hale is at center court, his hands out in front of him, moving his hips to the music. He starts popping, and Stiles murmurs a quiet curse. His ass looks absolutely glorious…objectively speaking, of course, but Stiles can’t stop watching and apparently neither can anyone else.

Derek’s got everyone’s attention, and there’s a collective “ _Ooh_!” murmured across the gym when he finishes his impromptu dance with an impressive backflip. Derek takes a bow, ducking his head when everyone bursts into applause. He and the rest of the team run off the court and back to the locker room, and the gym starts to clear out. Stiles and his friends decide to wait for more people to leave before getting up from their seats.

Stiles is still trying to recover from Derek’s performance when Lydia says, “We _need_ him.”

The young man turns to stare at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Need who?”

“Derek Hale, _duh_ , who else?” She retorts, and Stiles’ eyes widen because she can’t possibly be suggesting what he _thinks_ she’s suggesting, right?

Stiles waves his hands in front of his face as he says, “ _No_ , absolutely not, _no fucking way_! Lydia, you _can’t_ be serious!”

“Oh, but I am. Did you _see_ him out there? I mean, obviously he’s untrained and a little rough around the edges, but he’s got all the potential, charisma, and stage presence in the world. The judges would eat him up with a spoon.”

Stiles momentarily loses his train of thought because his mind flashes back to Derek’s ass, and how _he_ wouldn’t mind doing a little eating himself. All the blood in his body rushes south, but he manages to pull himself together before anything embarrassing happens.

“Look,” he begins in a much calmer tone, “I agreed that we could use some new members on the team but those new members will not include _Derek Hale_. He’s an arrogant, smug—"

Lydia cuts him off, “Talented dancer who _you_ have a major crush on _and_ who has a major crush on _you_.”

Stiles flails dramatically after her statement, cheeks flushing bright red, and almost falls off the bleachers in the process. “ _What_? That’s…That’s not even…you don’t even know what you’re talking about, Lydia. I do _not_ have a _crush_ on _Derek Hale_ and he most certainly does _not_ have a crush on _me_.”

It’s at this point that the rest of his friends decide to join their conversation, but they don’t even need to speak. The side-eye they’re giving Stiles says it all. He points to each of them as he says, “You’re all terrible people, every single one of you, and you guys looking at me like that isn’t going to change anything. Derek Hale is _not_ Spin Cycle material and that’s that.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at them, daring the group to challenge him…and, of course, they do. “Derek’s a good dancer and he’s popular,” Allison points out. “If he joins our team, he could convince other people to join too and maybe that would show Principal Davis that Spin Cycle’s worth keeping around.”

Scott says, “He could help us save the team and isn’t that more important than anything else?”

Stiles pouts like a toddler because he knows they’re right. Well, _Allison and Scott_ are right; he has no clue what the hell Lydia was talking about, mentioning crushes and such. Lydia’s crazy, Stiles concludes, but Scott and Allison have a point.

If Derek, captain of the basketball team and Greek god, joined Spin Cycle, the group’s stock at Beacon Hills’ High would definitely rise. The bold move would benefit them all, and Stiles can’t pass up any opportunity that might help save his team.

Stiles sighs in defeat. “ _Fine_. We’ll give Derek a shot.” His friends cheer before he adds, “But who’s to say he even _wants_ to join Spin Cycle? That performance just now might’ve been a one-time thing; he might not even like dancing. And how would we even convince him to try out?”

The group shares a look, devious grins crossing their faces, and Stiles knows he’s in trouble. “ _You_ can do it,” they respond together, and Stiles actually _does_ fall off the bleachers this time because clearly his friends have all lost their ever-loving minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get fun now! Working on chapter 8!


	8. Our Timing's Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles have a conversation and things go badly again...or do they?

After gathering his things and shutting his locker, Derek knocks his head against it. He can’t believe what he just did, dancing like a fool in front of more than half the student body of his school and the visiting team’s school. He’d gotten caught up in the moment, pumped up about his team’s win and even more excited because Stiles had been up in the stands watching it happen.

Derek thought he did a pretty good job concealing his joy over Stiles being at the game. Jackson had been talking to him and Boyd about something douche-y when Derek saw Stiles and his group of friends sitting in the bleachers. He’d stared at him until Stiles finally noticed Derek, and the basketball player wanted to grin at him or wink or do something to get his attention.

But then Derek realized maybe the way to get Stiles’ attention was to play well, and he made the decision to have the best game of his life. He wanted to impress Stiles with his skills so he played like a man possessed, scoring against the other team at will and playing stifling defense.

It wasn’t until the end of the game when they announced how many records Derek had broken that the young man took a chance and found Stiles again in the audience to gauge his reaction.

He’d been clapping and cheering just as loudly as everyone else, and Derek couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt watching Stiles react that way to something he’d done. So, yes, Derek wanted to celebrate, and when the music started up over the gym’s speakers, he couldn’t stop himself.

Derek had to dance, had to move his body to the pulsing rhythms. He usually only danced in the comfort of his own home but tonight he let the beat of the music overtake him. He found himself in the middle of the court, rocking his hips and shaking his ass, and it felt good to just let go that way, to not even care that anyone was watching…except for Stiles, of course.

He did care that Stiles was watching him dance and after pulling off that backflip Derek checked to see if he was still up in the bleachers. He’d been there, and he was looking at Derek in a way the young man couldn’t even begin to describe, but he knew it wasn’t good.

Stiles had been white as a ghost, and Derek figured he must've hated his dancing. Stiles probably could barely stand watching someone so uncoordinated and that thought is what led Derek to run off the court with his teammates following behind him.

He tried to drown himself in the shower afterwards and even his friends’ joy over the win isn’t enough to put him back in a good mood. Derek, once again, had made an idiot of himself in front of Stiles; he wonders if there’ll ever be a time when that _doesn’t_ happen.

“Pizza’s on Hale tonight!” Jackson announces as he and the rest of Derek’s friends walk out the locker room joining Erica and Cora, who are waiting for them in the hallway.  
The group laughs and Derek shakes his head but doesn’t dispute the comment. Derek and his friends head to Andy’s Pizzeria, a local restaurant right in the middle of downtown Beacon Hills.

They manage to find an empty table, the place is packed after the team’s win, and they sit down so they can order. A waitress comes around to jot down what they want, and they settle on five extra-large pizzas with assorted toppings. She tells them their order is going to take a while but will be ready as soon as possible.

“You were the fucking _man_ tonight, D!” Isaac shouts once the waitress has left the table and that gets the group started again, yelling and cheering loudly.

“You guys are going to get us kicked out,” Derek tells them though he can’t help smiling at their rowdiness.

Erica disagrees, “They’re not going to kick out the stars of Beacon Hills’ basketball team. You guys won; you deserve to celebrate. Actually, you _really_ deserve it, Derek, especially after that little show you put on after the game.”

“One of the few times I was actually proud to call you my big brother,” Cora says, and Derek rolls his eyes at her. “What was that about anyway? You _never_ dance outside the house.”

The young man shrugs. “I don’t know; I guess I was just excited.”

“Yeah, excited that Stilinski showed up for the game,” Jackson teases but then lets out a howl of pain when Derek kicks his shin under the table. The damage is already done though because Erica and Cora are reacting the way they usually do whenever someone brings up Stiles when Derek’s around.

“Wait, _Stiles_ was there?” Erica inquires.

“ _And_ he saw you dance!” Cora adds. She and Erica shriek with laughter while Derek covers his face with a menu to hide his flushed cheeks. Cora then asks, “Oh my god, is that why you did it? Because you knew Stiles was there watching?”

“ _No_ ,” Derek retorts, lowering the menu to glare at them.

“ _Yes_ ,” the girls say, still giggling despite the evil stare Derek is throwing at them.

“ _Oh_ , so _that_ explains why you played the way you did,” Isaac states, and Derek sighs. “I mean, we all know you’re good, but you were on _fire_ tonight.”

“Because of _Stilinski_?” Jackson questions in disbelief and then sits back in his chair with a small shrug. “Well, I guess he’s good for something. Get your shit together and just ask him out, Hale!”

Derek’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Jackson actually said something halfway decent…about Stiles of all people, and his friends can hardly believe it.

“He’d be as stupid as I think he is if he says no,” Jackson adds, and the group breathes a sigh of relief because that sounds more like the Jackson they know and tolerate.

“Stiles doesn’t even like me,” Derek reminds them, “and he told me to leave him alone so asking him out doesn’t sound very plausible right now. Stiles wants nothing to do with me; he _hid_ from me earlier!”

Cora snorts. “Yeah, behind _Lydia_ , which means he really wasn’t trying that hard. Stiles _wanted_ you to see him.”

She has a valid point but that doesn’t change the fact Stiles told Derek he doesn’t want him around. Derek isn’t giving up on the young man, but he’s still not sure if he’s ready to try and make another move when things are still so difficult between them.

“I hate to interrupt this _amazing_ conversation,” Boyd chimes in, “but a few people just walked in that might interest some of you.”

Derek turns to glance at the door but then quickly spins back around, covering his face back up with a menu because Stiles and his companions have walked in. They all seem to be laughing at something pertaining to Stiles because the young man is frowning at them and rolling his eyes, and Derek wants more than ever to just grab Stiles, kiss him, and never let him go.

But doing that would be the worst idea _ever_ , so to stop himself from doing something incredibly stupid, Derek puts some money on the table to cover their bill before standing up and starting to inch his way towards the back exit.

Unfortunately, Derek’s too busy being _super stealthy_ to notice that Jackson and Isaac have left their table to join Stiles’ friends. They take seats next to Lydia and Allison and neither of them wastes any time pointing to Derek’s table with wide grins on their faces.

Derek glares back at them until Stiles turns to look at him, and the basketball player deflates, fairly certain that he takes on the posture of a sad puppy when Stiles quickly glances back in the opposite direction to start up a conversation with Danny. Since Stiles has already spotted him, Derek plops back down in his chair next to Boyd with a heavy sigh.

“He won’t even look at me,” Derek says, dropping his head down to the table.

Boyd suggests, “Maybe if you went over there and tried to talk to him again…actually, you don’t need to worry about going over there because Stiles is coming over here.”

Derek cuts off his friend with a loud scoff, lifting his head back up to speak. “Please don’t joke about that, Boyd.”

“I’m not,” Boyd insists, pointing past Derek, who turns and nearly knocks over the parmesan and red pepper flakes when he sees Stiles, slowly and rather reluctantly, making his way over to his table.

He keeps glancing back at his own table, saying something to his friends that Derek can’t hear. They mouth the word, “ _Go_!” at him, and Stiles’ shoulders drop, he takes a deep breath, and resolutely marches over to Derek’s table.

Once he finally makes it over, after a few more helpful prods from his friends, Stiles leans against the empty chair across from Derek, flailing a bit when the chair moves unexpectedly. When the young man regains a proper stance, he greets Derek enthusiastically. “Hey, Derek! How are you?”

It takes a moment for him to answer because he can’t believe Stiles is actually talking to him. Derek manages to keep his tone even as he answers, “I’m fine, Stiles. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Stiles replies, “Glad it’s Friday. Yay, weekend!”

Cora and Erica put their heads together, snickering at Stiles’ strange behavior, Boyd glances sideways at Derek, giving him a look that says, “This is the guy you’re crazy about?” but Derek can’t help smiling fondly at Stiles. He’s completely ridiculous and Derek couldn’t love him any more than he already does.

“Is there something I can do for you, Stiles?” Derek asks, and the young man runs a hand through his hair before answering.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute if you’re not busy.” Derek is just about to respond that he’s never too busy for him when Stiles speaks again. “You know what? You look _super_ busy, so I’m just gonna…”

Stiles starts to leave, and Derek’s eyes widen because the last thing he wants is for the young dancer to make a run for it. But apparently someone’s on his side because Derek sees Lydia stand up from her seat, narrow her eyes, and point a threatening finger at Stiles.

Her warning does the trick because Stiles turns back around to face him. Derek doesn’t want to chance it that Stiles might try to leave again so he says, “I’m not busy. Am I busy, guys?” Derek glances at his friends, who all get up at the same time and retreat over to Stiles’ table though he knows they’ll be straining hard to hear his and Stiles’ conversation.

Once they’re alone, Derek gestures to the empty chair across from him. “You can sit down if you want.” Stiles nods, sliding into the chair and wincing as he does so. Derek notices his grimace and asks, “What happened to you?”

Stiles waves a flippant hand as replies, “Nothing much. Just fell off the bleachers but it’s not a big—”

“Are you hurt?!” Derek inquires rather frantically, leaning across the table to place a hand on Stiles’ chin.

He twists the young man’s head back and forth, checking for bruises, until Derek realizes how crazy he must seem and releases his hold on Stiles’ face. Derek’s gaze drops to the table; he can feel his cheeks heat in embarrassment and doesn’t dare look back up at Stiles until his face returns to its normal color.

Stiles clears his throat a few times before answering Derek’s initial question. “I’m okay. My ass is a little sore though but nothing I’m not used to.” His face turns bright red after that statement, and Derek doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Stiles, cheeks still a lovely shade of pink, begins to ramble. “I mean, you know just because it seems like I’m always falling on my ass. And, _yeah_ , I’m going to stop talking about my ass now.” Derek wants to say he has no problem whatsoever discussing Stiles’ ass in vivid detail for the rest of the night but refrains from doing so.

“Um,” Stiles begins, rubbing at his cheek with his hand for a moment before trying to speak. “You…You played pretty well tonight. 32 points, 14 rebounds, 10 assists, and seven blocks is really impressive.”

“You kept track of my stats?” Derek questions, shocked that Stiles actually cared enough to remember his stat line.

Stiles quickly shakes his head, retorting, “ _No_. That was just…an educated guess.”

Derek smiles at him, deciding not to tease the young man, and instead just nods. “Oh, okay. Lucky guess.”

Stiles congratulates himself. “Yeah, I’m good like that.” He release a deep breath and then says, “That performance you put on after the show was pretty impressive too.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunching up, and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “You don’t have to tease me; I know how bad it was.”

Stiles exclaims, “ _What_? No, I’m not teasing you, Derek. Your dancing was really good; I mean it.”

The basketball player’s eyes fly open, and he gapes at Stiles in disbelief. “You…You liked my dancing?”

He nods, speaking slowly. “ _Yes_ , that’s what I said.”

It takes a moment for Derek to find his voice long enough to speak again because he can’t believe that Stiles actually admitted to liking his dancing. Of course, it’s not the same as him liking _Derek_ , but it’s a start. “I just…I can’t believe you liked it. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen you do.”

“You’ve seen me dance?” Stiles asks, and Derek almost slaps a hand to his forehead to chastise himself. What is Derek supposed to do now, admit that he’d watched Stiles dance from afar that fateful day freshmen year and how he’s secretly gone to all of his competitions since then?

Fortunately Derek’s quick on his feet and responds, “Sure, I’ve seen you dance. Your group performs at all the pep rallies, right?”

Stiles gives him a funny look, and Derek thinks the young man knows something’s up but doesn’t comment on it. “Right. You’re an athlete so it makes sense that you watched us dance at one of the pep rallies.” It almost sounds like Stiles is trying to convince himself that the statement is the complete truth. He must succeed because he doesn’t question Derek about it again.

Stiles looks away from Derek and taps on the tabletop for a moment as if he’s psyching himself up for something. When he glances back at Derek, he says, “Look, Derek, the real reason I came over here is because you really are a good dancer and me and the rest of my friends think you should try out for Spin Cycle. We could really use someone like you.”

Derek stares at Stiles for a whole minute and then laughs, full-belly, knee-slapping laughs because there’s no way Derek isn’t dreaming right now. This has _got_ to be a dream. Stiles would _never_ walk up to Derek and have a full-fledged conversation with him that ends with the young man suggesting he try out for his dance team. It’s just too good to be true, so Derek laughs until he’s practically crying.

Once he starts to calm down, Derek wipes at his eyes, still chuckling softly. However, his grin disappears when he realizes that Stiles is standing up from the table in an angry huff. “I _knew_ this was a bad idea,” Stiles tells him. “I _knew_ you wouldn’t take this seriously, but I let my friends convince me that this could work but obviously they were wrong.”

Derek’s face covers in horror at the revelation that Stiles was indeed genuine about wanting him in Spin Cycle. He hops out of his seat and cuts Stiles off before he can get too far away. Derek’s close to reaching out and taking his hand but stops himself.

He does, however, place a hand on Stiles’ arm to keep him from leaving. “Stiles, wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t think you were being serious.”

Stiles scowls at him, and Derek’s pretty sure he deserves it. “Yeah, well, I was, but it was a mistake so just forget about it.”

Derek takes hold of both of Stiles’ arms at this point to keep him in place, forcing the young man to look at him and hoping he can convey his sincerity about the situation. “I want to try out for Spin Cycle.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him suspiciously, questioning, “Are you being serious or are you just messing with me like you usually do?”

“I’m serious; I’d like to have a chance to join your team…if you’ll have me.”

The last part of his sentence comes out much softer than Derek intended, and he can tell he’s caught Stiles by surprise because the young dancer blushes, bowing his head so that his gaze drops to the floor.

“Tryouts start on Monday,” Stiles says, still not meeting Derek’s eye.

“I’ll be there.”

Derek’s thumbs are moving gingerly over Stiles’ arms, and he suddenly wishes they were somewhere more private than a pizzeria. Derek makes a futile attempt to get him to look up, but Stiles continues to avoid his eyes. At least he does until the young man pulls away from Derek to say, “Better prepare yourself, Hale, just because my friends want you on our team doesn’t mean this is going to be some cakewalk.”

Derek smirks at him, retorting, “I’m always up for a challenge.” Stiles rolls his eyes before starting the walk back to his table. “See you Monday!” Derek calls out, and Stiles lifts a hand in response.

Derek’s grinning stupidly when Cora, Boyd, and Erica return to the table. “Well, judging from the Kool-Aid grin on your face, I’m guessing things went okay with Stiles, which is shocking since you usually do _something_ to piss him off,” Cora says.

“Yeah, seriously, we all bet that the conversation wouldn’t last more than two minutes before Stiles came storming back over to his table,” Erica reveals. “I’m out ten bucks.”

Boyd says, “You really shouldn’t bet on our friend’s love life anymore, Erica.”

“Well, I guess so since I keep losing!”

Derek’s too happy to care that his friends are placing bets against him in regards to his relationship with Stiles. Derek just knows that now he really _does_ have a chance with the young man and hopes things between them can only get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left comments or kudos I appreciate it so much! Chapter 9 will be posted as soon as possible.


	9. Sway With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Stiles wants is some bro-time with Scott to help recover from the stressful week, but Stiles hardly ever gets what he wants.

When Stiles returns to his table after his conversation with Derek, he drops down into his chair, glares at his friends, and reaches over to steal a piece of pizza off each of their plates. Danny starts to complain, but Lydia puts up a hand to stop him, shaking her head. Once his plate is piled high with slices, Stiles digs in, practically inhaling each piece without stopping to chew.

The group shares a look as if they all want to comment on Stiles’ actions, but it’s Scott who speaks up first. “ _So_ , it looked like things went pretty well between you and Derek.”

Stiles purposely stuffs a slice of pizza in his mouth to avoid speaking, causing Lydia’s eyes to roll skyward. “Did you convince Derek to try out for the team or not? Actually, I don’t even know why I’m asking; of course you convinced him. Derek’s crazy about you; he’d do anything for you.”

“ _What are you talking about_?!” Stiles exclaims through a mouthful of pizza. Once he manages to swallow the food, he gapes at Lydia. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say again, Derek hates me.”

Isaac and Jackson snort into their drinks, and Stiles gives them both the stink-eye. “Derek _does_ hate me,” he reiterates, “but he _did_ agree to try out for Spin Cycle.” His friends cheer while Stiles leans back in his chair with crossed arms.

“I can’t believe you guys are so happy about this. We all know this isn’t going to work out; either Derek won’t be able to keep up with us or him agreeing to show up for tryouts is just part of an elaborate prank. I bet you two know something, don’t you?”

He points at Isaac and Jackson, who both put up their hands in defense. “I know nothing,” Isaac says, while Jackson drawls, “Leave me out of it.”

Stiles frowns before turning back to his friends. “Whatever. The point is, you shouldn’t get your hopes up about Derek.”

“Are you referring to us or yourself, Stiles?” Danny asks with a grin, and Stiles glowers at him but doesn’t reply to his question.

His eyes scan the room, landing on Derek, who’s got this huge smile on his face as he converses with his friends. He really does look better that way, not that his usual smirk isn’t ridiculously hot as well, but there’s something about Derek’s genuine smile that makes Stiles wish that things could be different between them. He looks away from Derek, deciding not to let the young man take up any more of his thoughts.

It’s past ten when Stiles wakes up the following morning. After convincing him that he’d have time to finish the fliers for tryouts on Sunday, Stiles and Scott made plans to have some bro-bonding time. Recently Scott has been a little preoccupied with Kira and Stiles…well, Stiles has been busy too, having a lot of “me time”. What it boils down to is Stiles and Scott have been neglecting their bro-time, but the boys plan to remedy that this weekend.

Stiles takes the stairs down to the ground level of his house two at a time in just a t-shirt and boxers. It’s Saturday, after all, he doesn’t need to put on clothes just yet. When Stiles makes it downstairs, he skids into the kitchen.

The sheriff is already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He glances up from the sports section to greet his son when he comes in. “Good morning, Stiles,”

“Morning, Daddy-O!” Stiles opens the refrigerator and pulls out a carton of juice, taking a swig from it. His father grimaces but doesn’t reprimand his son for drinking straight out of the carton. “How are you this fine Saturday morning?” Stiles asks, leaning against the counter.

The sheriff replies, “Never better. What are you up to today?”

“Scott and I are having some seriously overdue bro-time,” the young man replies. “It’s been like, _forever_ , since the two of us really hung out together outside of stuff for Spin Cycle.”

“So when you say ‘bro-time’, that basically just consists of you and Scott sitting around playing video games, eating junk, and watching movies.”

Stiles admits, “Pretty much. I’m heading over to the store in a few to pick us up some snacks. Did you want anything? I can get you some more of that quinoa you loved so much.”

His dad makes a face, clearly remembering the night Stiles force-fed him the food with a big grin and a whole spiel about its health benefits. “‘Loved’ isn’t quite the word I’d used to describe my feelings about that stuff. Actually, before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something. You got in pretty late last night.”

Stiles and his friends had spent half the night after the basketball game ended at Andy’s and the other half running around a nearby park like a bunch of fools. Stiles fell off a set of monkey bars; it wasn’t one of his prouder moments. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Dad. Me and the guys kind of lost track of time; it won’t happen again.”

His father nods in agreement. “I’m sure it won’t, but that’s actually not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Stiles’ face covers in confusion; he doesn’t remember doing anything wrong…at least not recently.

“A few of the deputies mentioned that they’ve seen you around town with a young man recently, Derek Hale? They said they saw you two outside the station a couple of nights ago and at Andy’s last night. Is there something you’d like to share with me?”

Stiles is in the middle of taking another sip of juice and nearly chokes on it when his dad brings up Derek. He coughs a few times while his father lifts a questioning eyebrow at him.

Once Stiles is able to talk again, he chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. “ _What_? That’s crazy, Dad. Your deputies are _clearly_ misinformed because I barely even know this…Derek Hale person.”

The sheriff gives him this look that makes Stiles run an anxious hand over the back of his neck as he adds, “ _But_ from the very minimal information I _do_ have about him, I can tell you that he doesn’t even like me, so you don’t have to worry. Nothing is _ever_ going to happen between me and Derek Hale.”

After he finishes his answer, Stiles takes another drink from the orange juice carton just as his father mutters, “Famous last words,” and the young man nearly chokes again.

“ _Dad_!” He yells once he regains his ability to speak and his eyes stop watering. “I don’t…I don’t like him.”

The older man doesn’t even look up from the paper to respond. “Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Stiles groans loudly, tossing the empty container in the garbage before stomping out of the kitchen, ignoring his father’s amused chuckles. “Just for that, you’re getting more quinoa!” He shouts from the top of the stairs and his dad only laughs harder.

Stiles grumbles all the way to his room, closing the door behind him. He’s tired of everyone thinking there’s something going on between Derek and him, besides the fact they can’t stand each other. _If_ things manage to work out, and that’s a pretty big if, with Derek joining Spin Cycle, _maybe_ they can learn to tolerate each other. But until then Stiles is perfectly content not seeing, speaking to, or thinking about Derek Hale.

An hour later, Stiles is dressed and maneuvering a cart full of assorted chips, dips, and cookies down one of the aisles of Beacon Hills’ marketplace. Both him and Scott can eat a ton of food between them, so Stiles knows he has to stock up otherwise they won’t even make through the afternoon without having to come back to the store and buy more.

Stiles is just about to head down to the frozen food section to pick up some pizza rolls and chicken wings when he nearly crashes into a display of ketchup. The reason for the near mishap is because Stiles spots Derek standing in the produce section.

He’s currently holding a tomato in each hand, weighing his options, a look of sheer concentration on his face, and Stiles can’t stop the grin from crossing his lips. Derek Hale is in a market, buying tomatoes; there’s no possible way Stiles is going to pass up the chance to make fun of him for it. It’s practically his civic duty.

Stiles steers his cart in Derek’s direction and sidles up next to him quietly enough that the young man doesn’t notice him.

“If you want to know if they’re ripe or not, just give them a good squeeze,” he comments, and Derek startles, fumbling the tomatoes, and turning to look at Stiles with wide eyes. The skin under Derek’s stubble almost looks pink, but Stiles thinks it’s the horrible lighting of the market that’s making it appear that way.

“ _Stiles_! What are you doing here?” Derek questions, and Stiles gives him a bored look.

He points to the contents of his cart as he replies, “Shopping. What else does one do in a supermarket?” Derek actually ducks his head as if he’s embarrassed, and Stiles almost finds the action charming… _almost_. “I never thought I’d see the day when Derek Hale decided to peruse the produce section.”

Derek looks back up at him to say, “Cora and I take turns doing the grocery shopping every weekend. As you can see, it’s my turn. My mom wants fresh tomatoes for her marinara sauce, and I’m sort of failing at picking them out.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but not in annoyance like he usually does around the basketball player. He almost thinks it’s endearing that Derek apparently has no clue how to pick out vegetables…again, _almost_.

Stiles reaches over to pick up a tomato and drops it into Derek’s hand. “It’s really not that hard,” he states, placing his hand over Derek’s to demonstrate how to complete the task, “all you have to do is just squeeze. If it gives, then you know it’s ripe. See?”

The tomato the boys are holding gives a little when they squeeze it, and Stiles smiles. “You’ve got yourself a ripe tomato.” A minute, or five, Stiles can’t really tell, passes before he realizes that he’s still holding Derek’s hand and that Derek’s _letting_ him hold it.

Stiles glances over to find Derek staring at him intently and immediately lets go of his hand, dropping his own back to his side. His mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and Stiles has to swallow a few times to get it working properly again. “So, your mom makes homemade marinara sauce? That’s pretty awesome, dude.”

Derek is still gazing at him but does respond to Stiles’ comment. “My sister’s home from school for the weekend and it’s her favorite so my mom makes a whole bunch of it for her.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“You should come,” Derek blurts, catching Stiles off-guard, and the young man runs a hand over his face before speaking again. “Over,” he adds belatedly, “you should come over…for dinner tonight. Like I said, my mom usually makes so much food we have to end up putting most of it in the freezer, so it’s not like you’d be imposing or anything.”

Stiles can’t believe his ears. Did Derek Hale really just invite him over to his house…for dinner…with his family? Maybe the fall off the monkey bars last night knocked him unconscious and put Stiles in a coma because this whole scenario _has_ to be a figment of his imagination.

The young man reaches up with one finger to poke Derek’s cheek, causing the young man to stare at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Why are you poking me, Stiles?”

“To make sure you’re real,” he responds, and Derek laughs.

“You’re an idiot. Of course I’m real. Why would you think I’m not?”

“ _Because_ …you just invited me over to _your house_?!” Stiles exclaims. Derek’s eyebrows do that thing again that Stiles translates to mean, “ _And_?” and he shouts in response, “ _And_ you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Derek tells him, voice laced with complete sincerity, and Stiles just stares at him, mouth hanging wide open, until he can actually find his voice again.

“You don’t?”

Derek shakes his head in response. “No, I don’t. I never have.”

“Oh,” Stiles replies simply. Derek smiles at him again, and Stiles can feel his face growing warm.

“So, will you come over?” He asks, and Stiles’ response is almost immediate.

“I can’t. Me and Scott are hanging out tonight, so—”

“Scott can come too,” Derek’s quick to add. “All of your friends can come over if they want. My friends will be there, and as you already know, our house is huge, so we’ve got plenty of space to accommodate everyone.”

Derek’s really working overtime to convince Stiles to come over to his house, and the young dancer can’t understand why. They’ve had minimal contact with each other over the past four years, so why is Derek suddenly so interested in making friends with him?

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles questions. He folds his arms, his face covering in suspicion.

“What do you mean?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Ugh, answering a question with another question, nice. I mean, why are you doing this? We barely even know each other outside of a few classes we’ve had together and some interaction that’s usually less than friendly. So, what is this really about? If you’re planning to do something shitty to me and my friends—”

Derek cuts him off to retort, “ _No_! That’s not…I wouldn’t…I just…”

The young man drifts off, running a hand through his hair and avoiding looking at him, and Stiles is utterly confused. Derek really does seem genuinely embarrassed about something, but what, Stiles doesn’t know.

“I don’t want us to fight anymore…at least not for real fighting, play fighting with you is actually kind of fun,” Derek admits looking sheepish, and Stiles works very hard to hold back a grin. “I want us to get along especially since we’ll be on the same team soon.”

Stiles scoffs lightly. “You’re really confident that you won’t screw up at tryouts.”

“Oh, I _know_ I won’t,” he retorts, confidence returning. “I’m going to be in Spin Cycle, so I think the best thing for everyone is for you and me to stop whatever this craziness is between us. And we can start doing that if you agree to come over for dinner.”

Stiles frowns slightly, staring Derek down, trying to decide if he’s really being sincere about wanting to work things out between them. Truth be told, Stiles can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not, and he needs a second opinion…or a third…he just needs to talk to his friends about it.

“What time does dinner start?” Stiles asks.

“Seven.”

“You know what, I’ll get back to you with my answer a little later. I need to consult with my friends about this.”

“Stiles, this isn’t a trick,” Derek assures him.

“ _Yeah_ , but I don’t really trust you,” Stiles admits, “I do trust my friends though…well, most of the time. We’ll see what they think about your sudden need to become all buddy-buddy with me…us. Talk to you later.”

Stiles is about to steer his cart down to the frozen foods when Derek says, “Well, if you’re going to talk to me later, then you’re going to need my number.”

Stiles blanches because there’s something about the way Derek offers him his phone number that makes the young dancer quite nervous though he doesn’t know why. But Stiles does know he needs to end this conversation.

The young man moves away quickly, not even bothering to look at Derek as he leaves, adding in a rushed voice, “Lydia can just get your number from Jackson! I don’t really need it! Bye!”

Stiles finishes up the rest of his shopping in a hurry so he won’t bump into Derek again. He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets back home and starts putting away the food. His father is gone already but left money for takeout just in case he isn’t back in time for dinner. Stiles decides to straighten up a bit before Scott gets there, determinedly not thinking about whatever happened back at the store with Derek.

He’s just finished hooking up his X-Box to the big television in the living room when the doorbell rings. Stiles rushes to the door to let Scott in and grins wide when he sees his best friend. “Ready for some bro-time?” Scott asks, and Stiles nods.

“Oh you know it, buddy.”

The boys are crashing on the couch two hours later, a couple of party-sized bags of Doritos between them and a plate full of pizza rolls in front of them, engaged in an intense game of _Call of Duty_ while asking each other dumb questions.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’d pick Cheetos fingers over a waffle head,” Scott says. “Wouldn’t you be tempted to eat your fingers off since, you know, they’re _right there_ in front of you?”

“I have self-control,” Stiles insists, but Scott just laughs at him. Stiles shakes his head at his friend before saying, “Scotty, can I talk to you about something?”

Scott pauses the game, tossing his controller aside to reply, “Sure, man, what’s going on?”

Stiles takes a deep breath and then rattles out his answer. “This morning at the store I ran into Derek, and we were talking and he somehow ended up inviting us all to his house for dinner.”

The young man takes another deep breath once he finishes rambling about Derek, adding, “So, do you think we should go? I mean, it could be a trick, right?”

Scott disagrees, “I don’t think so. It sounds like Derek’s trying to extend an olive branch to you; I think you should take it.”

“But he’s not doing it just for me though,” Stiles reminds him. “He’s trying to make peace with all of us.”

His best friend gives him a skeptical look. “I don’t know about that. The rest of us never had a problem with Derek. And besides that, _we’re_ not the ones he has a crush on.” Almost as soon as the words leave Scott’s mouth, a pillow hits him in the face. “Real mature, Stiles.”

The young man shrugs and then asks, “So, should we go or not?”

Scott replies, “I don’t know. How about we ask everyone?” He pulls out his phone and dials Kira’s number first, then Lydia’s, who sets up a three-way conference call with Allison and Danny.

“What’s going on, Scott?” Allison inquires.

“Yeah, seriously, I’m in the middle of shoe-shopping,” Lydia tells them.

Danny chimes in, “Me too.”

“What? Well, why aren’t we shopping together?”

“I don’t know. Where are you?”

Danny and Lydia are in the middle of discussing plans to meet up at the mall, but Kira interrupts them. “Can we get back to the reason you called, Scott? I thought you and Stiles were having bro-time?”

“We are,” Scott replies. “But it turns out we might have to put it on hold because Stiles got an invitation to have dinner with Derek.”

“About time,” the foursome says together, and Stiles makes a noise of dissent.

“You people are horrible. I don’t know why we’re friends.”

The group, including Scott, agrees, “Neither do we.”

Stiles waves his hands as if anyone but Scott can see him. “Scott’s telling the story all wrong. Derek invited _all of us_ to dinner at his house tonight, and I want to know if you guys want to go.”

“Of course we should go,” Lydia says, “it’ll be _amazing_ watching you and Derek pretend like you’re not crazy about each other.”

His friends voice their agreement with this plan while Stiles falls back against the couch, banging his head against the armrest. How in the world is he supposed to survive dinner with Derek Hale?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 will be posted as soon as possible!


	10. Our Footwork Still Needs Improving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek spends some time with his family while he waits to hear from Stiles about accepting his dinner invite. He's pleasantly surprised by his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter's so late. I've been sick and haven't been inspired to do much. Still, I hope you guys enjoy!

When Derek gets back home after picking up the groceries, he’s in a surprisingly good mood. Yes, Stiles had run from him after his insane, last-minute dinner invitation, but Derek could tell the young man was definitely considering taking him up on his offer. He keeps checking his phone, hoping that Stiles, or at least one of his friends, will call to let him know they’ve accepted his invite.

Derek backs his way into the house, weighed down by several bags. His mom, Cora, and Laura are in the kitchen, talking and laughing together, and Derek almost considers walking back out, but Laura catches him before he can make a break for it.

“Hey! There’s my favorite little brother,” she says, hopping up from her seat at the breakfast bar to help him with the bags.

“I’m your only little brother,” Derek reminds her.

“Which, of course, makes you my favorite, _duh_.” Laura flicks his forehead, but Derek doesn’t retaliate, just rolls his eyes at her.

The two siblings have always been close, spending many years together playing basketball, watching movies, and sharing similar grievances. Though Laura does tend to tease her little brother to no avail, there’s no doubt she’d do anything for Derek, and he feels the same way about her.

As they start to put away the groceries, Laura says, “I’m sorry I missed your game last night. I heard you were awesome; maybe almost as good as me.”

“I don’t think I’m quite _that_ good yet, but I’m all right,” Derek states with a small shrug, but Cora nudges him with her shoulder.

“Hey, you’re pretty good too, especially when you know a certain someone’s watching you.”

Cora winks, Derek blushes, concentrating hard on the task of putting cereal in the pantry, and Laura gasps. “Stiles was at your game last night? Ooh, do tell. Was he there holding up a sign for you? Did he give you a kiss after you won? Someone _please_ tell me Derek’s finally admitted to the poor boy that he’s head over heels.”

Derek’s about to speak up to defend himself when Cora shakes her head. “Hmm, not quite, actually not at all. Derek’s still being a baby, and Stiles is still completely clueless.”

“Things between us are progressing,” Derek chimes in, but the looks on his sisters’ faces forces him to add, “Slowly, but still, progressing.”

“Oh my god, Derek, it’s been _84 years_ ,” Laura begins; Derek frowns at the _Titanic_ reference, “just tell the guy how you feel.”

Derek _wants_ to admit to Stiles how he really feels about him; the only problem is Stiles still doesn’t like him very much or trust him either. There’s too much risk involved with telling the young dancer the truth now. He could reject Derek or not even believe he has feelings for him in the first place.

Maybe once he gains Stiles’ trust, Derek can finally reveal that he loves him. But for now, he’s fine with where they are, even if that means Stiles sprinting away from Derek because he suggested giving the young man his number.

Talia, who is unpacking the bag with the vegetables, interrupts her children’s conversation most likely to save Derek from any further embarrassment, to give the fresh food her seal of approval. “You did a great job picking out these tomatoes, Derek. They’ll be perfect for the sauce.”

Derek’s cheeks turn about as red as the tomatoes as he recalls just how and who helped him pick them. Stiles’ playful teasing, his pleasant smile, and the warm feeling of Derek’s hand in his made the whole tedious experience of grocery shopping a whole lot more bearable. Derek finds himself wanting to engage in any menial task as long as Stiles is there with him.

“I had a little help picking them out,” the young man admits with a grin. “I ran into Stiles…or rather, he ran into me, at the store. He helped me find the best tomatoes…and I sort of invited him and his friends to dinner tonight. Is that okay, Mom?”

Talia nods. “Of course. You know we’ll have plenty of food to go around. The more, the merrier.”

Derek smiles before Laura almost tackles him to the floor. “I’m so proud of you, little brother. You’ve finally stopped being a big coward!”

The young man scowls at her but then admits, “I asked Stiles to come over, but he didn’t exactly tell me if he would or not. He thinks I’m going to do something to him or his friends, so he probably won’t even show up.”

Derek slips his phone out of his pocket to make sure he doesn’t have any missed calls, despite the ringer’s volume being on full-blast. “I’m waiting to hear from him…actually I’m waiting to hear from Jackson. Stiles’ friend, Lydia is dating him, and Jackson’s friends with Danny, so he’ll probably just use him as a go-between. I just know Jackson’s going to call, probably laughing when he does it, and say that Stiles doesn’t want to come over here.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Laura assures her younger sibling. “I’ll bet you anything Stiles is probably too curious about the real reason you invited him over to turn you down.”

Cora nods in agreement. “That sounds like Stiles. He’s going to say yes, especially since you gave him the option of bringing his friends. He can use them as buffers for the night.”

Derek pouts, feeling like an overgrown two-year old. “It doesn’t matter to me if he brings his friends, I just want Stiles here. I just want a chance, you know?”

“We know,” Laura tells him, wrapping the young man in a hug, and Derek realizes at that moment just how much he misses her when she’s away. When they pull back, she says, “Okay, I know just the thing to get your mind off Stiles for a little while.”

Derek shakes his head, knowing what she’s about to suggest. “No way, I’m not playing. You always win, so what’s the point?”

“Oh come on, Derek,” Laura says, “a little game of HORSE won’t kill you.”

Derek throws his hands up in defeat, knowing it doesn’t make much sense to put up a fight about it. “ _Fine_ , we can play, but no victory dances if you win.”

“ _If_ I win? Derek, you said it yourself; I _always_ win,” she points out with a grin.

“Yeah, well…race you to the court!”

Derek gets a five-second head start on his sister, who’s too busy complaining about him being a cheating cheater. Derek allows himself to enjoy playing basketball against his older sister while his younger sister watches, cheering for whoever’s winning at the time. They play several games, and Derek’s mind doesn’t even drift to Stiles again until he realizes it’s a quarter to six and he still hasn’t heard from him.

The siblings are reclining on the back porch when Derek checks his phone again, still no call from Stiles. Derek sighs, setting the phone down next to him. “Well, I guess that’s it. He’s not coming. I mean, why would he? I haven’t given Stiles any reason to trust me.”

Laura wraps an arm around him. “I’m sorry, kid. I know how much he means to you.”

Derek stands up from his seat on the porch to say, “I’m gonna go shower.” He’s just about to enter the house when his phone starts ringing. The young man spins around and almost trips trying to get back to it before whoever’s calling hangs up.

“Maybe you should let it go to voicemail,” Cora teases, sticking her tongue out at him.

Derek narrows his eyes at her before answering the call. “Hello?” His eyebrows furrow when no one answers him. “Stiles?”

There’s another thirty seconds of complete silence until Stiles finally speaks up, his tone unnaturally high-pitched. “ _Hey_ , Derek. How are you?”

The young man can’t help smiling when he hears his voice. “I’m fine, Stiles. How are you doing?”

“ _I’ve_ been better— _ow_ , Lydia, was that really _necessary_?!” Derek assumes Stiles pulls the phone from his ear and covers it because all he hears is muffled voices. Several minutes pass before Stiles speaks into the phone again. “Sorry about that, Derek. Now, what were we talking about?”

“I’m not sure,” Derek admits. “You called me?”

“ _Oh_ , right, so, about your dinner invite. Apparently my friends can’t pass up the chance for free food, so—”

Stiles’ voice cuts out, and Derek can hear the sound of distant rustling and shouting until finally Lydia says, “Don’t let Stiles’ nonchalant attitude fool you, Derek. He’s literally been staring at his phone for _hours_ trying to work up the nerve to call you.”

Derek’s face breaks into a grin. “Really?”

Before Lydia can answer, the muffled shouting begins again, and Stiles returns to the phone, a little out of breath. “Don’t listen to her. Lydia’s certifiable; brilliant, beautiful, but certifiable.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Derek says, sarcasm lacing his voice, and Stiles squeaks on the other end. The basketball player smirks, unable to stop himself from asking, “ _So_ , you called me from your phone?”

“Yes,” Stiles responds, rather hesitantly.

“Which means you have my number now…and I have yours. _So_ , hypothetically speaking, if _you_ wanted to call _me_ again, you could. _And_ , hypothetically speaking, if _I_ wanted to call _you_ again, I could.”

A crash sounds on the other end, causing Derek’s eyes to widen and for him to shout in a panicky voice, “Stiles, are you okay?!”

It takes a moment but Derek’s relieved when Stiles answers, “Oh yeah, I’m fine, just fell over a little bit, but I’m good. So, yeah, my friends and I will be there for dinner, if it’s still okay.”

“It’s more than okay, Stiles,” Derek tells him, voice softening, and once again, a minute or so passes before Stiles speaks again.

“Okay, so, see you later.”

Stiles hangs up before Derek can respond, causing the young man to pull the phone away from his ear and frown at it. Cora asks, “What happened?”

“He hung up on me,” the young man replies.

“Is he coming over?” Laura inquires, and Derek’s smile returns.

“Yeah. He said he and his friends would be here.”

His sisters cheer and both quickly stand up from their seats to herd Derek into the house. “Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got to shower and change,” Laura says. “Cora and I will pick you out something suitable to wear.”

“Whoa, hold on.” Derek digs in his heels and manages to stop the two ladies from pushing him any further. “Why can’t I pick out my own clothes?”

The girls share a look before bursting into laughter, causing Derek to roll his eyes at them. “Oh, Derek, please,” Cora says between giggles, “you know that’s not happening. Now go shower and Laura and I will leave your clothes out on the bed.”

She reaches up to pat Derek’s head, but he flinches away, reminding her, “You’re still my baby sister.”

“Yeah, but I’m not!” Laura exclaims, ruffling her younger brother’s hair as the trio make their way back into the house.

True to their word when Derek gets out of the shower, he finds a soft green Henley and a pair of black jeans on his bed. He’s pleased with his sisters’ choices until he pulls on the jeans and finds them unbelievably tight.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Derek mutters when he gets a look at himself in the mirror. The jeans make him look practically indecent and part of him knows he should change into another pair. But the other part of him, the more mischievous part, wants to see Stiles’ reaction to him in the skintight jeans.

He doesn’t even get the chance to put on something else because his bedroom door opens and his group of friends walks in without invitation. “I could’ve been in the middle of changing, you know,” Derek complains, but Erica waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s not like it’s anything we haven’t all seen before,” the young woman says, plopping down on his bed while the others take seats around the room, murmuring in agreement, and Derek shakes his head at them.

He gestures down at himself. “I should change, right? I should totally change.”

“You better not otherwise your sisters will have your head,” Boyd tells him. “They’re downstairs plotting as we speak.”

“Oh god,” Derek says, running a hand over his face. “This was such a bad idea. What was I thinking? Inviting Stiles over here the weekend Laura’s home.”

Jackson laughs heartily. “Stilinski’s going to _flip_ when he sees you.”

“We should record his reaction and post it online,” Isaac suggests. “You know it would go viral.”

Jackson’s just about to agree when Erica smacks them both on the backs of their heads, scolding the duo. “You two, behave yourselves. This is important to Derek; the least you could do is _pretend_ to be supportive.”

Both young men pout but ultimately agree for fear that Erica might hit them again. Derek, meanwhile, is having an internal freak-out. He’s not sure if having his friends there is making things better or worse; Laura being home certainly isn’t helping. She’s probably going to go out of her way to embarrass him in front of Stiles.

Maybe he should just call Stiles and tell him not to even bother coming over, that this whole thing was a mistake. Unfortunately for Derek, the doorbell rings, and he’s about ready to jump out of his skin.

“Tell him I’m sick or something,” he says, pacing the floor. “That I’ve come down with some 24-hour bug, and I can’t come out of my room because I’m contagious.”

His friends give him incredibly bored looks, though Jackson and Isaac look more amused than anything else, and Derek can’t even blame them for it. He releases a sigh, accepting his fate. “You guys will keep me from embarrassing myself too much in front of Stiles, right?”

“We can only try,” Boyd says with a small grin, patting his friend on the back as they head out the room together.

As they make their way downstairs, Derek nearly trips on the last step when he gets a glimpse of Stiles. He’s wearing a red and blue plaid shirt with a simple white tee underneath and dark blue jeans.

His hair is in its usual messy state and it makes Derek want to run his fingers through it. Stiles is standing there with his friends, happily conversing with his sisters and mother, and it’s at this point that Derek realizes just how much he wants the young man in his life.

Stiles turns to look at him and his mouth falls open. He’s blatantly gawking at Derek, and the young man can’t help feeling pleased about it, especially when Danny points at Stiles’ mouth and says, “You’ve got a little drool.”

Stiles glares at his friend, who just laughs at him, before waving at Derek. “Hi, Derek.”

“Hey, Stiles. I’m glad you guys could make it.”

The group greets each other and after Talia excuses herself to go check on dinner, Allison says, “Your house is spectacular, Derek.”

Scott agrees, “Yeah, seriously. I think if I lived in a place this big I’d never leave.”

“If you guys want, I can show you around before dinner,” Derek offers, though the suggestion is directed more at Stiles than anyone else.

“Ooh, that would be amazing,” Kira says. “I was doing some research earlier about this house and how it was one of the first buildings constructed in Beacon Hills.”

Laura nods. “It was. Our family has been here since the beginning, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be going anywhere, anytime soon. We all love this town so much, and the people in it.”

She nudges Derek playfully, and the young man narrows his eyes at her. “Laura, weren’t you going to help mom out in the kitchen,” he says through clenched teeth.

His statement isn’t even close to being a question, and Laura grins at him. “I’m going, _but_ ,” she reaches over to pinch Stiles’ cheeks affectionately, “I want to have a talk with this one later. Derek talks about you all the time, and I want to know if any of what he says is true.”

Stiles flushes bright red which is a stark contrast to the pale white Derek turns after his sister’s comment. “ _I hate you_ ,” he hisses, but Laura just grins, blowing kisses at him before joining her mother in the kitchen.

Jackson and Isaac are cackling somewhere behind him, as are Cora and Erica, who seems to have forgotten all about her threat to the boys about being supportive of Derek in favor of laughing at him.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself because Laura’s doing a fine job of it all on her own,” Boyd whispers beside him, and Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn’t how he wanted to start off the evening.

Stiles clears his throat, his face back to its normal color but his voice a little hoarse as he says, “You said something about a tour.”

Derek can’t even bear to meet Stiles’ eyes after what Laura said and is grateful when Cora speaks up for him. “Derek’s having a moment, so I can do it. We’ll start upstairs.”

The Hale house has over twenty rooms; several bedrooms and bathrooms, large kitchen, living room, family room, gym, indoor basketball court, two offices, and even a screening room. The grounds are immaculate with a swimming and lap pool, tennis court, the basketball court, and a full garden.

Stiles’ friends aren’t even trying to hide how impressed they are by the Hale estate, but the young man himself seems distracted by something, and Derek would give anything to find out what it is that’s bothering him.

Cora’s showing the group a gorgeous fountain out in the backyard when Derek finally bucks up the courage to talk to Stiles. “Are you okay?” He inquires once their friends are too busy having conversations amongst themselves to pay them any attention.

Erica, Lydia, and Cora have their heads together, which can’t be good for anyone. Allison, Boyd, and Kira are discussing different types of fighting styles. While Jackson, Isaac, Scott, and Danny talk about lacrosse. Derek’s pleased to see that his and Stiles’ friends are getting along, maybe that means there’s hope for them too.

Stiles nods but then quickly shakes his head no. “Just…still confused about why this is happening. What possessed you to invite me…us to dinner?”

Derek replies, “Like I said before, I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He’d like to do other things, but he’s certain Stiles wouldn’t be up for any of it.

“Yeah, but, why now? What changed?” The young man inquires and Derek has a harder time fielding that question. He’d have to admit that he’s spent the last several years loving him from afar and practically jumped at the chance to get closer to him when Stiles suggested he join Spin Cycle.

“I don’t know,” he responds as honestly as he can manage. “Maybe I have. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I don’t want to be the dumb jock picking on the smart dancer anymore.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re hardly what I’d call dumb, Derek.”

The basketball player lifts an eyebrow at him. “ _Oh really_ , and how would you know that? You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

The young man flushes, quickly retorting, “ _No_. They post the honor roll list in the school newspaper, genius. I know you have a 4.0.”

Derek ducks his head shyly, happy that Stiles knows he’s not just some stereotypical athlete getting by on his talent on the court, that he can hold his own in the classroom too.

“It’s not something I go around broadcasting, but it’s nice to know I’ll have something else to fall back on in case the whole basketball thing doesn’t work out.”

“Oh, what, besides being a backup dancer for Lady Gaga?” Stiles teases and it’s Derek’s turn to blush.

“You’re…really something,” he adds, and Derek’s eyes widen in shock. Stiles is determinedly not looking at him, but Derek’s not going to let what he said drop. He wants Stiles to elaborate on his feelings and then maybe Derek can expand on his own in the process.

Unfortunately for the young man, Laura finds them to let them know dinner is ready and that they should all return to the house to wash up. Derek notices Stiles breathe a sigh of relief and before he can say something to him, the young dancer has practically sprinted away to place himself between Scott and Danny.

The group start the trek back to the house, but Derek stays behind. Boyd glances back at him, ready to talk if needed, but Derek signals for him to join the rest of their friends.

Once he’s alone, Derek sits down beside the fountain, letting his fingers drift through the water. Maybe it’s time Derek realizes that the best he’s going to get from Stiles is friendship. It may not be what he wants, but at this point, he’ll take whatever he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Hale house continues in chapter 11. I will try to have it posted as soon as possible.


	11. We Continue This Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Hale house continues, and Stiles finds out some interesting information about Derek.

Agreeing to attend this dinner at Derek’s house was clearly a mistake, Stiles concludes as he finds himself sitting down at a table large enough to seat 20 people.

Don’t get him wrong, the food’s delicious. He’s fortunate to be surrounded by his friends, Scott on one side and Lydia on the other. And the Hale family, though intimidating, is still friendly and unnaturally gorgeous…including the young man currently sitting across from Stiles, watching him rather than paying attention to the conversations going on around them.

Derek offers him a small smile, and Stiles nearly chokes on his dinner roll. Scott glances over at him, concern etching his features as he asks, “You okay, dude?”

Stiles nods, reaching over to take a drink of his water and then assures his friend, “I’m fine, just something went down the wrong way.”

When he chances another look at Derek, the young man’s no longer watching him, too engrossed with the pasta on his plate. Stiles releases a sigh though he’s not sure if it’s one of relief or annoyance and that thought terrifies him.

He doesn’t have long to contemplate what the hell that might mean because Derek’s parents are speaking to him and it would be incredibly rude not to answer them.

“So, Stiles, Derek tells us you're a dancer,” she says with a warm smile.

Derek’s father, Charles, who Derek gets his green eyes and wicked smirk from, adds, “And captain of your team.”

Stiles can’t help gaping across the table at Derek. He’s still fiddling with his food, but his cheeks are noticeably pinker than they were previously. Derek talks about him…with _his parents_. Well, that’s…interesting.

“I am,” he replies after getting over the initial shock that _Derek talks about him with his parents_. “But I’d be nothing without these guys.” He tilts his head affectionately at his friends, who roll their eyes fondly at him in return. “We dance and act silly and it’s fun. It’s just too bad it might all be over soon.”

Stiles doesn’t mean for the words to come out the way they do, or at all, but he says them, low and quiet. The whole mood at the table shifts, and he can see his friends’ distraught faces, as well as Derek’s, and that makes things even worse for him.

“What do you mean, ‘it might all be over soon’?” Talia asks, and it’s Scott who answers because Stiles just _can’t_ right now.

“Our school’s principal wants to cut out the dance program,” Scott replies. “If we don’t at least win our regionals, he and the school board are going to stop funding us.”

Charles scoffs. “Well, that’s ridiculous. I’m not one to usually throw my weight around, but I’ll have a word with your principal on Monday and see what I can do to help out.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, sir.”

“Of course I do,” the older man insists. “The arts are still so very vital to a young person’s education. That, _plus_ Derek cares about you and would hate to see you lose something so important—”

Derek’s water glass goes flying right at that moment, spilling all over the table. He leaps up from his seat, muttering quiet curses under his breath as he attempts to clean up the mess with his napkin.

Stiles, face still hot from Mr. Hale’s words, stands up to assist him, using his own napkin to soak up the water. “Here, let me help you,” he offers, but Derek quickly shakes his head.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

In the middle of the chaos, Stiles’ hands find their way to Derek’s by accident, and the young dancer can’t help the jolt of heat he feels just from the simple touch. He supposes Derek must feel it too because their eyes meet for one fleeting moment, and Stiles sees something in those green orbs, something that makes him a little more than nervous.

Stiles jerks back, returns to his seat, and bows his head. He doesn’t dare glance at Derek again. The young man feels fidgety and it isn’t until Lydia gives his hand a squeeze under the table that he finally starts to calm down.

“We appreciate your offer, Mr. Hale,” she begins, as charming and eloquent as ever, “but we’ll be fine. We always are, and Derek’s agreed to try out for our team, so having him as a member will definitely help.”

“You never mentioned that, little brother,” Laura states with a wide smile and though Stiles doesn’t actually look him in the eye, he _does_ notice the way Derek slinks down in his seat as if he’s embarrassed.

“It never came up,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that should be fun. It means you’ll get to spend more time with Stiles…and his lovely group of friends,” Laura says, smile never wavering, and Stiles is fairly certain he might be missing something important.

Charles adds, “As long as it doesn’t affect your schoolwork and you think you can balance dancing and basketball then I don’t see a problem.”

“You’ve always loved dancing; I’m surprised it took you this long to join,” Talia comments.

“ _We’re not_ ,” Cora chimes in, causing Erica, Isaac, and Jackson to chuckle beside her.

Stiles sees Derek throw his sister and friends dirty looks, but they just grin back at him, and he wonders what could be so amusing to them and so mortifying to Derek.

A thought occurs to Stiles, but it’s ridiculous, so he doesn’t even consider it especially since Talia is talking about dessert and going back to the kitchen to retrieve several different kinds of pie. Any insane ideas running through his head can be put on hold for pie.

Cora suggests that the young people move to the screening room to eat their dessert and watch a movie, and they all agree. Except Laura, who is going out to meet up with a few old friends who still live in Beacon Hills full-time.

She grabs her purse and keys and pulls on a leather jacket. The young woman bids them good night but not before patting Stiles on the cheek, telling him, “I’m sure you and I will get a chance to talk very soon.”

Laura smirks, winks at Derek, who buries his face in his hands with a groan, and walks out the house, calling out for her family not to wait up for her.

Stiles looks to Derek for assistance figuring out what his sister meant, but the young man shakes his head in response. “Just…don’t ask.”

“Your sister’s so hot,” Jackson blurts, wincing almost immediately after he speaks because he’s waiting for Lydia’s reaction.

The strawberry blonde catches Jackson by surprise when she nods in agreement. “She is.”

“Now _that’s_ hot,” Isaac comments, causing Allison to roll her eyes at him.

Cora calls them all to order at that point. “Come on, people, grab your pie and let’s head downstairs.”

The Hale’s home theater has a projector with a huge screen and two rows of six comfy seats. There’s also a popcorn maker, vending machine, and a fountain drink dispenser. When they get down to the basement, the group argues about what to watch. Isaac suggests _The Hobbit_ which gets shot down almost immediately. Erica wants to watch _The Hunger Games_ , but Boyd complains that they’ve seen it too many times.

“And Jackson always cries like a baby when Rue dies,” Cora adds.

“I do not!” The young man exclaims but then adds, “I…I have allergies.”

His friends laugh when he folds his arms defiantly. Kira raises her hand and politely suggests, “How about _The Avengers_?” And the group agrees because who can say no to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers?

Derek starts up the movie while everyone else finds a seat with their pie in hand. Glancing around the room at his friends, old and new, Stiles has to smile. Scott, Kira, Allison, and Isaac are beside him while the others take up the row in front of him.

It takes Stiles a moment to realize that the seat next to his is the only empty spot available…which means Derek will have to sit next to him. Derek returns from starting the movie and glances between the two rows, running a hand over the back of his neck when he sees the only seat left is next to Stiles.

“I’ll just…sit on the floor,” he says, making a move to walk away.

Stiles surprises the young man, and himself, when he reaches out to grab Derek’s wrist to stop him from leaving. “Don’t be stupid.”

He tugs Derek down into the seat, and once he’s settled, Stiles nods, satisfied. “There you go. Now you’ve got a seat, I’ve got a seat, everyone has a seat, and no one has to sit on the floor.”

“Thanks.” Derek gives him this soft smile that makes something in Stiles’ stomach flutter; he tries his best to ignore it and takes a bite of his Dutch apple pie, hoping it will help stop whatever it is he’s feeling.

Even though the movie has started, Stiles can’t help running his mouth during inopportune times. “Thanks for inviting me…us over. It’s been nice.”

“I’m glad you agreed to come here. I didn’t think you would.”

“I almost didn’t,” he admits truthfully.

“Did you really stare at your phone for _hours_?” Derek inquires, that unfairly hot smirk of his crossing his lips, and Stiles is lucky the room is so dark because he’s sure his face must be red.

“ _No_! I told you, Lydia’s certifiable.”

“ _I heard that_ ,” Lydia says from her spot in front of him, and Stiles wilts down into his seat while Derek chuckles.

“Speaking of certifiable,” Derek begins, looking a bit nervous as he does so, “I’m sorry about my sister and my parents, particularly my dad. He didn’t mean what he said the way it sounded.”

“What, that you care about _me_?” Stiles blurts, voice going all squeaky. He immediately stuffs his face with more pie to keep himself from talking because talking right now would be _such_ a bad idea.

Derek doesn’t talk again for a while either, and Stiles is wondering just what is going through his mind at the moment.

When Derek finally does speak, he sounds strained, as if every word he says is causing him physical pain. “My dad didn’t mean I care about you, as in, _just you_. He meant you, as in, the collective form of _you_. _You_ meaning Spin Cycle; I care about what happens to the team.”

That…makes sense, right? A whole lot more sense than Derek actually caring about _him_ and only him. “Your dad was really nice to offer his help like that,” Stiles says, hoping to steer the conversation back into safer territory.

Derek nods. “He’s always been very supportive of me and my siblings. When I came out to him, he didn’t even bat an eye. He just hugged me and said he loved me no matter what.”

Stiles is swallowing a piece of pie when Derek mentions coming out, and the young dancer nearly chokes for the second time that evening. Derek reaches over to pat his back, inquiring, “Are you okay?”

His voice is rough as he answers, “I’m fine. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…”

“That I’m gay?” Derek offers, and Stiles almost considers making a run for it until he remembers that the house is so big he’d probably get lost on his way out.

Stiles makes a vague hand gesture. “Yeah, _that_. I didn’t know.”

The young man is suddenly aware of the way Derek is still running his hand over Stiles’ back though he’s recovered from his choking episode.

“Do you have a problem with that, me being gay?”

“ _No_!” He exclaims. “Of course not. I’m bi, so no, I _definitely_ don’t have a problem with you. I just…didn’t know,” Stiles finishes rather lamely, and Derek actually smiles at him.

“Well, now you know.”

Derek lifts his hand off his back at this point, but Stiles can still feel the warmth from where he touched him seeping into his skin. This doesn’t change anything, of course; Derek being gay changes _not one single thing_. Stiles tells himself this, _several_ times, until he hears Derek speaking beside him. He’s not actually talking to Stiles though. He’s…

“ _Oh my god_ , are you _quoting_ this movie?” Stiles questions, turning to stare at the young man in disbelief.

Derek grins sheepishly, admitting, “I may have watched this movie an unholy amount of times.” Stiles pokes his shoulder with a finger, and Derek lifts an eyebrow at him. “Checking to see if I’m real again?”

“ _Yes_ , can you _blame_ me? Someone who looks like you…” Derek scoffs lightly, and Stiles frowns in return. “Oh please, don’t even try it; you know what you look like. You look the way you look, you play basketball, you’re a dancer, you’re smart, _and_ you can quote comic book movies from memory? There’s _no way_ you could be real.”

“I’m pretty good at _Call of Duty_ too,” the young man adds rather smugly, and Stiles’ mouth drops open.

He gapes at Derek but then narrows his eyes, a skeptical expression crossing his features. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Derek insists, but Stiles shakes his head. “You don’t believe me?”

“No,” the young dancer retorts because it’s not possible. Derek can’t be a video game junkie on top of everything else. It would be too much for Stiles to handle.

“You really don’t believe me?” When Stiles shakes his head again, Derek stands up from his seat suddenly, surprising him when he pulls him up as well and starts to lead him over to the stairs.

Stiles holds back, stopping Derek from going any further, and questions, “Where are we going?”

“Up to my room,” he replies simply, and Stiles’ cheeks turn a light shade of crimson at the suggestiveness of his answer.

Things only get worse for the young man when their friends shout together, “ _Finally_!” Erica adds unhelpfully, “Be safe, boys.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the group before turning back to Stiles. His face actually looks a bit pink, but Stiles thinks the light from the screen is making it appear that way. “We’re going up to my room so I can show you that I’m not lying about being good at _Call of Duty_ …not anything else.”

Of course not. Of course nothing else is going to happen between them. The very notion of Stiles and Derek doing anything other than playing video games up in Derek’s room is laughable. It’s utterly ridiculous…so then why is Stiles so nervous all of a sudden?

“What…What about the movie?” Stiles asks, voice a bit shaky.

“We could watch it some other time if you want or maybe marathon all the _Phase 1_ movies sometime if you’re interested.”

Stiles stares at Derek, just stares at him because this can’t possibly be the same person who teased him and has been a thorn in his side since freshmen year. It can’t be; there’s no way.

He nods slowly in agreement, still unsure if he’s dealing with a pod person or not. “Yeah, okay. Come on, let’s see if you were lying about your skills or not.”

Derek smiles at him; it’s warm and genuine and throws Stiles for a loop. Just as the pair are walking upstairs together, Lydia calls out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Stiles almost trips going upstairs after her comment and face palms when Derek chuckles softly. When they finally make it up to Derek’s room, he gestures for Stiles to sit down on the bed while he loads the game.

He cautiously takes a seat; the realization that he’s sitting on Derek Hale’s bed has his stomach twisted up in knots…until Derek tosses him a controller, plops down on the bed next to him and says, “Prepare to be amazed.”

Stiles can’t help the way his mouth tips up in a grin at the eagerness that spreads over Derek’s face when the game starts up. “We’ll see.”

They play together for over two hours, trading barbs and cursing up a storm when something doesn’t go their way. Derek’s good, much better than Stiles expected, and when they end the game for the night, he tells him so.

“Well, I guess you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were good,” he says, placing the controller down beside him.

Derek smirks at him. “Told you. So, do you think you might be able to start trusting me now?”

The serious question catches Stiles off-guard. The playful, teasing expression is gone from Derek’s face, replaced with a sincere, hopeful one, and Stiles sucks in a breath. He has to look away for a moment to compose himself enough to answer.

“I don’t know yet,” he replies honestly.

“It’s not a flat-out no, so I’ll take it,” Derek says, his smile returning, and Stiles makes the decision to end whatever _this_ is before it goes any further.

He stands up from the bed, stretching so that a sliver of his stomach shows when his t-shirt rides up. “I guess we should call it a night.”

Stiles expects Derek to respond but when he looks over at him, he’s staring at him with this strange look that Stiles can’t seem to place. Derek snaps out of it quickly though, running a hand through his hair before speaking. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I should go round up the troops. I bet they’re all in pie-induced comas by now.”

Derek nods in agreement. “Probably.”

Derek leads the way out and when the duo returns to the basement, they find the group still lounging together. _The Avengers_ has ended, and they’re arguing over which movie to put in next when Stiles announces, “We should get going.”

His friends grumble and complain about him disrupting their comfort but ultimately agree. In Stiles’ and Derek’s absence, both sets of companions have made plans to hang out again, so the young dancer supposes the dinner should be considered a success even though he’s still not certain what to make of Derek.

Derek, who’s standing in the foyer of his home staring at him like he wants to say something but can’t quite figure out how. Stiles doesn’t give him the chance to, however, because he lifts a hand in parting and heads out the front door, not even waiting for his friends to join him.

“Thanks again!” Stiles calls out over his shoulder and clearly imagines the disappointment that covers Derek’s face as he hops in his jeep.  Scott and Kira rode with him while Lydia, Allison, and Danny drove together in Lydia’s car.

When the couple slide into the vehicle, they both give Stiles disapproving looks, causing him to ask, “What? What did I do?”

“Do you want the laundry list or should we start with the most obvious one?” Scott counters.

Stiles opens his mouth to defend himself, but Kira cuts him off. “He’s _crazy_ about you; how can you not see it?”

“Who, _Derek_?” He questions, the octave of his voice rising sharply, and the duo rolls their eyes in unison. “He’s just…trying to be nice,” Stiles says as he starts up the jeep. “It’s not a big deal; it’s a very small, tiny deal.”

Scott claps him affectionately on the shoulder. “You are completely hopeless, my friend.”

Stiles doesn’t even bother responding to him because Scott doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Okay, sure, Derek had invited him…them over for dinner which really was a nice gesture. And maybe the basketball player isn’t as horrible as Stiles made him out to be but that doesn’t mean there’s _ever_ going to be anything more between them than friendship, if that. Stiles is still weary of Derek’s intentions and is unsure if he’ll ever be able to fully trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their lovely comments and kudos! Chapter 12 will be posted as soon as possible!


	12. We Can't Seem to Get the Moves Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tryouts are finally here, but Derek has a problem.

Derek is up early the next morning after a restless night. Though the dinner with Stiles and his friends hadn’t been a _complete_ disaster, things still didn’t go exactly the way Derek hoped they would. Stiles might hate him a little less than he previously did, but Derek knows it’s going take some time for the young dancer to start trusting him.

He goes for a run to try and clear his head, choosing to stay on his family’s property this time. Even though it’s still early, he doesn’t want to take a chance that he might run into Stiles; the pair seeing each other probably wouldn’t be good for either of them at this point. Derek might be tempted pull Stiles into a heated kiss the moment he sees him, and Stiles would probably have the sheriff arrest him the first chance he gets.

Derek returns back to the house after about an hour, feeling only marginally better after his run. He’s in the kitchen trying to decide whether he wants to eat or shower first when Laura walks in balancing a box of pastries from a local bakery in one hand and four coffees in the other.

Derek quirks an eyebrow at her when he notices she’s still wearing the same clothes from the previous night. “Are you _just_ getting in?” He asks before taking a long drink from his water bottle.

His older sister grins innocently at him, avoiding his question completely. “I bought Danishes _and_ your _favorite_ , though you try to pretend it’s not, caramel macchiato.”

Derek frowns but accepts the drink without further comment. He’s pulling a cream cheese Danish out of the box when Laura inquires, “So how did the rest of your night go? I hope you were safe.”

“Laura!” The young man exclaims, flushing lightly. “Nothing… like that happened.”

“So, what _did_ happen after I left? You told Stiles how you feel, right?”

He takes a bite out of the Danish, refusing to answer her inquiry, choosing instead to compliment her choice of breakfast food. “This is good, _really_ good. Did you get these from that new place on Center Street?”

Laura snatches the pastry away, holding it out of Derek’s reach while he complains. “Oh no, you don’t get this back until you answer the question. Did you tell Stiles that you love him or not?”

Derek gives up on retrieving his food and sinks down into a chair with a heavy sigh. “No,” he admits softly because of course he didn’t tell Stiles how he feels. Why would he when divulging the truth would only lead to heartbreak? Stiles doesn’t want him, and he probably never will.

“Things are better between us,” Derek adds, a small smile crossing his lips as he thinks back to all the nice moments he and Stiles shared last night and how he hopes they’ll be more in the near future. “But if I tell him how I feel it’ll ruin all the progress I’ve made. I can’t do that, Laura.”

His older sister wraps her arms around him and rests her chin on his shoulder. “Promise me that you’ll tell him; the sooner, the better. You owe it to yourself to tell Stiles the truth.”

As much as Derek wants to, he can’t make that promise, not when he’s unsure if he and Stiles will even become friends, let alone something more. Derek manages to steal his Danish back and finishes it with a satisfied grin. He spends the rest of his lazy Sunday with his family, trying not to think about Stiles or the tryouts he agreed to attend the next day.

But, of course, the weekend goes by too quickly, and Monday morning Derek walks into the high school feeling anxious. Fliers for Spin Cycle’s tryouts are posted on nearly every available surface around the school, and he can’t help wondering if anyone else will show up to try out this afternoon.

Derek’s a few paces from his locker when he spots Stiles conversing with Danny and Allison. His mouth curves up into a goofy smile the way it almost always does when he sees him. Derek’s not even sure what Stiles is talking about, but his eyes are bright and his hands are flying in a million different directions, and he's so perfect it makes his heart ache just looking at him.

The basketball player doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Erica clears her throat loudly to get his attention. “ _Aww_ , you’re so utterly pathetic when it comes to him.”

“Come on, the guy’s in love, he’s allowed to be pathetic if he wants to be,” Boyd says, unable to stop himself from chuckling lightly.

Derek’s about to respond to his friends when Stiles shocks the young man by waving...at _him_. It’s small and tentative, accompanied by a shy smile, and it’s directed at _him_. Derek almost checks to make sure there’s no one behind him that Stiles could be waving at instead. The young man sighs contently, whatever nervousness he’s feeling dissipating immediately.

Stiles appears to end his conversation with Danny and Allison. They both give Derek knowing smiles before leaving, taking Boyd and Erica with them. The foursome start up their own discussion, leaving Derek to contemplate if his and Stiles’ friends becoming close is really such a good idea.

He doesn’t have time to consider the repercussions because Stiles is walking over and apologizing to him. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for taking off the way I did the other night. It was really rude of me.”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” he assures him, but Stiles disagrees.

“It’s not though. You and your family were incredibly kind to invite me and my friends over for dinner, and I shouldn’t have left like that. I really am sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not necessary,” Derek tells him, waving his hands in front of him.

“Oh.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair a few times, and the small action distracts Derek. “Well, I thought I should let you know I had fun.”

“You did?” He questions eagerly.

“The food was amazing, and I guess you’re not _completely_ inept at _CoD_.”

Derek lets out a laugh, crossing his arms. “Oh, okay, thanks for that.”

Stiles shrugs at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Derek finds himself saying, “Maybe we could play again sometime…when you’re not busy, of course. Because I know how busy you are with Spin Cycle and your friends and everything else.”

“I’m nowhere near as busy as I’m sure you are,” he admits and then adds, “but, okay, sure, just let me know when and where.”

Derek wants to say tonight at his place but figures that would probably be a bad idea. Stiles is speaking again, so he’s saved from blurting out something potentially embarrassing.

“So, are you ready for tryouts today?” Stiles asks.

He nods, answering in an overly confident tone. “I was _born_ ready.”

Stiles covers his mouth though laughter still escapes through his lips. “You didn’t just say that, did you? Oh my god, you _actually_ said that. I can’t believe you’d say something so amazingly cheesy.”

He laughs louder at him, but Derek doesn’t even care; he just knows he wouldn’t mind hearing Stiles laugh like that for the rest of their lives, especially if he’s the reason for it.

Stiles stares are him, shaking his head for a moment. “Where have you been hiding all this time?” He questions, voice unexpectedly soft, and Derek’s face goes pink under Stiles’ awed gaze.

The young man’s not sure _how_ to answer that or even if he’s supposed to. He wants to tell him he’s been right here this whole time waiting for him, but Stiles is rushing off in the opposite direction. He claims he’s going to be late for class, even though they still have about ten more minutes before the bell’s scheduled to ring, and that he’ll see him later in history.

Derek sighs and is about to head to his own first period class when a thought occurs to him, a thought that makes him face palm. Tryouts for Spin Cycle are this afternoon…and so is his basketball practice. They’re at the same time and Derek can’t be in two places at once.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. What is he supposed to do? His dad told him if he couldn’t balance both commitments he’d have to give up one of them, and Derek doesn’t want to do that.

He checks the time again before sprinting down the hall in the direction of Coach Finstock’s office. The older man is sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee and the daily crossword when Derek comes flying into the room without knocking to announce his presence.

Coach looks up from his newspaper to shout, “Hale, what are you doing here?! Don’t you have somewhere else to be other than my office?”

Derek apologizes for barging in. “Sorry, Coach, but I need to talk to you about something.”

Coach gestures to the seat on the other side of his desk as he says, “Well, hurry up, I’ve got important things to be doing. What’s a four-letter word for ‘to converse’?”

The young man shrugs as he suggests, “Talk?”

He nods, writing it down, before speaking again. “What can I do for you, Hale?”

Derek slides into the chair and then reveals, “I want to try out for the school’s dance team.”

Coach stares at him, his eyebrow quirked. “I never really pegged you for a dancer, but okay. You do know those tryouts are the same time as practice today, so you can’t possibly do both.”

“I know, which is why I wanted to talk to you. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any way you could maybe move practice so that it doesn’t conflict with tryouts?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that; it wouldn’t be fair to the other guys on the team for me to play favorites…and you are my favorite, Hale, even though I’m not really supposed to say it.”

Derek nods, smiling at his coach’s words but his smile is quickly replaced by a frown. He should’ve known there’d be no way he could juggle dancing with Spin Cycle and playing for the basketball team. He stands up from the seat and starts to walk to the door. “Thanks, anyway, Coach.”

Before he can leave, Coach asks, “Why is this so important to you anyway?”

Derek turns back to face him, unsure if it would be wise to admit to his basketball coach the real reason he wants to try out for the dance team. But he figures it couldn’t hurt. “Their captain, Stiles Stilinski, well, I’m…sort of…in love with him. I wanted a chance to get close to him, but it’s stupid, so I—”

His coach surprises him when he interrupts him in the middle of his sentence, frowning slightly. “Tell you what,” he begins, “my sister is their sponsor. I’m sure I could talk to her and _maybe_ find a way to work out the schedules so that they don’t conflict.”

Derek’s face lights up and he exclaims, “You’d really do that?”

Coach sighs as he responds, “I couldn’t possibly stand in the way of young love, could I?” Derek laughs lightly before the older man is shooing him away. “Now _go_ , you’re going to be late for class.”

“Thank you, Coach. You won’t regret this,” Derek says and then dashes out the room, feeling considerably better.

“I better not!” He calls back, chuckling as he does so.

Derek is on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Even his friends teasing him about Stiles giving him private dancing lessons after tryouts are over can’t dampen his mood. He greets Stiles brightly in the two classes they have together, and he actually smiles back at him in return. Derek feels like he can do anything in the world…except dance…in front of a judging Stiles.

When the afternoon rolls around, and it’s time for tryouts to start, Derek’s back to being a bundle of nerves. Coach has cancelled their practice for the day, leaving him free to attend tryouts. But as he’s walking down the stairs to the basement, Derek can’t help feeling anxious. He’s going to be trying to learn choreography and dancing in front of Stiles, and he’s probably going to do something embarrassing, and this just seems like a bad idea. A _really_ bad idea.

Derek’s about to make a run for it, maybe use that 24-hour bug excuse to explain his absence, when Cora, Erica, and Isaac walk downstairs together. The young man furrows his eyebrows at his sister and friends, wondering why they’ve shown up to tryouts dressed as if they’re ready…to try out.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asks, once they’re all standing together.

Cora replies, “We weren’t going to let you do this alone.”

“Yeah, seriously, where’s the fun in that?” Erica adds with a smile.

Derek points between the trio, speaking slowly. “You…You don’t mean?”

Cora nods, confirming her brother’s suspicions. “Yup, we’re going to try out with you.”

The young man shakes his head in disbelief, particularly at Isaac, who doesn’t look nearly as excited as the girls to be there. “You too, Isaac?”

Isaac releases a heavy sigh. “I lost at rock, paper, scissors to Jackson and Boyd. I’m pretty sure Jackson cheated somehow.”

“You guys don’t have to do this,” Derek tells them.

Erica disagrees, “Yes, we do. We know you’d chicken out otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t have chickened out.” The trio gives him these looks that scream, “Yeah, you would’ve,” and he frowns because they know him just a little too well. Derek throws up his hands, forced to admit, “Okay, _fine_ , maybe I would’ve. I’m glad you guys are here.”

“ _Aww_ , anything to help you stop being a coward and admit to Stiles how you feel,” Cora says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and Derek scowls when they laugh at him.

The foursome walks into the dance studio together. Music is blasting from a set of speakers and the six members of Spin Cycle are already there. Derek’s eyes immediately find Stiles; he’s seated on the floor, legs spread wide in a stretch, and the basketball player swallows hard at the sight of him.

He can’t help imagining using Stiles’ flexibility for other purposes. But Derek then reminds himself that thinking about such scenarios can lead to certain _mortifying_ situations and nips those thoughts in the bud.

They all greet each other, exchanging friendly pleasantries. Cora and Erica make a beeline for Lydia and Danny while Isaac joins Allison, Scott, and Kira, leaving Derek to stand alone awkwardly, watching Stiles stretch…which certainly isn’t the _worst_ thing in the world.

Stiles glances up at him from his spot on the floor, chuckling softly. “Checking to make sure I’m properly stretched before we get started?”

Derek literally chokes on _nothing_ after his statement. Stiles’ eyes widen in concern and he hops up off the floor to check on him. “Are you all right?”

He nods once he's able to speak again. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good. It’s kind of funny because usually _I’m_ the one choking on something around _you_.”

Derek knows his face must be red, but Stiles either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge it because he doesn’t mention it. He wonders if Stiles is saying these things on purpose or if he honestly doesn’t realize what he’s saying and how it sounds.

“Should…Should we get started?” He asks because the basketball player doesn’t think he can handle Stiles saying anything else suggestive at the moment.

“I guess so. I don’t think anyone else is going to show up. I’m still surprised that you did.”

“Disappointed?” Derek asks, eyes lowering to the floor.

“I’m not sure,” he replies simply.

Derek wants to respond to him, but Stiles has already moved on. He’s standing in the middle of the room, ready to address him and his friends.

“Okay, guys, I want to thank you all…well, you four, for coming to our tryouts. Here’s how it works: my buddies Scott and Kira are going to attempt to teach you guys one of our routines. Allison and Danny will be walking around to assist anybody that needs extra help while me and Lydia will be observing. You’ve got an hour to learn the steps; after the hour each of you will go through the routine separately and then tomorrow we’ll let you know if you’ve made it or not.”

Derek and his friends nod in understanding before Stiles adds, “I know it seems like we’re desperate for members.”

“Which we are,” Danny chimes in.

Stiles rolls his eyes before continuing to speak. “But just because it’s only the four of you trying out doesn’t necessarily mean you’re all going to make the team. We do have a certain standard that we expect each and every one of our members to live up to, and if you can’t do that, then you don’t need to be here.”

Derek thinks that comment might be directed more towards him than anyone else, despite the fact he’s the only one who initially agreed to attend these tryouts.

Stiles rubs his hands together. “Let’s get started.”

Scott and Kira start off teaching them a few simple moves. Derek picks them up fairly easy and starts to think maybe he _can_ do this. But things quickly get more complicated for him, and he finds himself having to ask Allison more than once to show him a certain step again because he can’t quite get it right the first time.

The hour goes by fast, too fast for Derek, and he drops down to the floor with a sigh as he watches Erica take her turn first. She’s really good, does the right choreography, but manages to add her own bit of flair to it. She gets a round of applause when she finishes, and the young woman smirks, knowing her spot’s almost guaranteed.

Isaac’s next…and he’s a whole lot better than Derek would’ve ever thought. He misses a couple of the steps, but he’s solid and eager to learn even though he’s only _supposed_ to be here because he lost a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“Something you want to share, Isaac?” Derek asks his friend with a grin, but he just shakes his head in response.

Cora’s up and his sister is the best of the three so far. She actually took a few dance lessons when they were younger but got bored with it and gave it up after a while. Apparently she still remembers some things because her version of the routine is flawless and the members of Spin Cycle give her a standing ovation.

_Of-fucking-course_ Derek has to go on after her. This wouldn’t be his life if that wasn’t the case. He tells himself _not_ to look at Stiles, to focus on his friends, or the other members, or the walls, or the floor, or just about _anything_ other than Stiles.

It doesn’t work though because his eyes narrow in on Stiles and when the music starts up, Derek’s body moves in a way it’s never done before. His movements are smooth and effortless; the steps he was having trouble picking up before are easy for him now.

He’s light on his feet and his hips are being guided by the rhythm of the music. When Derek finishes the dance, the whole room falls silent, which isn’t the reaction he’d expected.

And he’s _definitely_ not expecting Stiles to slide his chair back from the table where he and the other members are sitting and rush out of the room without so much as a glance in his direction. His friends call after him, but Stiles leaves quickly, the door slamming shut behind him.

Scott jumps up from his seat and says in a hurried voice, “ _Okay_ , so, that concludes tryouts. We’ll let you guys know our decisions tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day. _Stiles_!”

Scott runs out the room after that, leaving the rest of the group to mutter to themselves about what could be wrong with their captain. Derek drops his head into his hands, wondering what the hell he could’ve possibly done _now_ to piss off the boy he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, I knew Coach was just a big softy! And what in the world is going on with Stiles?! Chapter 13 will be posted as soon as possible!


	13. You Spin Me in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles isn't ready to accept some truths about Derek...at least he thinks he's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your kudos and comments. I'm thinking you guys might like this one ;)

Stiles is sitting in his jeep outside in the school parking lot. His hands are resting on the keys in the ignition; he should probably turn on the vehicle and get the hell out of there but can’t find it in himself to move. The young man knows storming out of tryouts like that had been a _tad bit_ overdramatic, but it wasn’t his fault! It was all _Derek’s_ fault!

Derek, with his surprisingly dumb sense of humor that almost never fails to make Stiles laugh. Derek, with that incredibly endearing look of concentration on his face; the same one he’d had while attempting to pick out tomatoes and during his tryout. Derek, with his amazingly perfect dancing, even better than the show he put on Friday night. Derek, Derek, _Derek_.

“Stupid Derek,” Stiles mutters, banging his head against the back of the seat.

Stiles had been searching for _any_ way he could to keep Derek away from Spin Cycle. The _only_ reason he’d agreed to go to that dinner on Saturday night was to prove to his friends that Derek Hale wasn’t worth the trouble, that he was a horrible human being and a complete waste of their time. Unfortunately the only thing he’d managed to prove that night was that Derek’s actually a nice person and fun to hang around.

Stiles’ last resort had been the hope that Derek couldn’t dance. He’d figured that while Derek might’ve been a _decent_ dancer, there’d be _no_ _way_ he could keep up with his team. Stiles was _wrong_ , _so very wrong_ , because the basketball player is just as gifted on the dance floor as he is on the court.

Now there’s no reason for Derek _not_ to join Spin Cycle, for him _not_ to be around Stiles all the time, looking at him with those green eyes of his and flashing him that soft smile that does more to Stiles than he’d _ever_ want to admit.

“Stupid Derek,” he mutters again but then adds, “stupid, _stupid_ Stiles.”

Stiles is still trying to brain himself on the headrest when someone taps on the passenger side window, startling him. He lets out a relieved sigh when he sees Scott outside the jeep. That relief is short-lived, however, when his best friend shouts at him, “ _You’re an idiot_!”

He unlocks the door for Scott, who slides into the jeep, and then glares at him with folded arms, waiting for Stiles to explain himself. “What would sound the most believable to you?” Stiles asks innocently.

“None of the bullshit you’re about to start spouting,” Scott replies without hesitation, and Stiles groans because his best friend doesn’t even _try_ to mince words with him. “What happened, Stiles?”

“He’s _good_ , Scotty,” Stiles retorts in a pained voice. “That’s what happened. Derek’s _good_ ; he’s _great_ even and everything is terrible.”

Stiles lets his head fall forward onto the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound in the middle of the quiet parking lot. Scott pulls him back up into a sitting position before asking, “And _why_ exactly is everything terrible?”

“Because Derek’s _good_. Have you _not_ been listening, Scott?”

Scott rolls his eyes, looking so completely done with him, and Stiles can’t really blame him for it. “ _So_ , you’re upset because Derek’s a good dancer _and_ he’s a good person which means you have no more reasons left to pretend to hate him.”

Stiles’ mouth falls open but then snaps closed quickly. He points his finger weakly at him and says rather maturely, “You suck.”

Scott shrugs, completely unaffected by the insult. “I suck because I’m right and you know it. You have feelings for the guy, stop trying to ignore them and act on them. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed when you do.”

Stiles squeaks wordlessly as Scott opens the door back up and gets out of the jeep. “Me and Kira are having dinner with my mom, so I’ll text you later. Hopefully you’ll have come to your senses by then.”

Scott closes the door, leaving Stiles to just stare after him. Scott’s wrong, he decides after finally turning the keys in the ignition and the jeep roars to life. Stiles doesn’t have… _feelings_ for Derek. He doesn’t. “I don’t,” he says aloud.

Stiles barely even tolerates him. But he guesses that’s going to have to change because they’ll be teammates after all and they should at least _try_ to get along with each other.

The young man curses the whole drive back to his house. He curses while he does his homework. He curses while searching for new music for Spin Cycle’s next routine. He can’t stop cursing because Derek’s making friends with his friends and joining the team Stiles loves. Derek Hale’s in his life now and he doesn’t want him there. He doesn’t.

“I don’t,” he repeats again but no one heard him the first time and no one hears him this time either.

Stiles is grateful when his dad returns from the station that evening, giving him something else to focus on other than a certain basketball player turned dancer.

His father is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, and Stiles glances up from his laptop to greet him. “Hey, dad. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. What do you feel like doing for dinner tonight?”

Stiles checks the clock. He didn’t even realize how quickly time flew by; it’s nearly seven. It’s too late to cook, but he doesn’t feel like eating in either. Stiles wants to get out of the house for a while so he suggests, “How about we go out to eat? Milkshakes and burgers at Float Your Boat?”

The sheriff narrows his eyes suspiciously at the mention of milkshakes because Stiles hasn’t allowed his father to have a milkshake in over a year. “Did something happen today, Stiles?”

“ _What_? No!” Stiles exclaims, his tone a bit too over-the-top. “Just…felt like a milkshake is all. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ve got more _quinoa_!”

The older man quickly shouts, “No, no! Float Your Boat sounds great.”

Float Your Boat is a mom-and-pop diner located in downtown Beacon Hills famous for its chocolate milkshakes and curly fries. Stiles is guilty of indulging in their greasy foods and sweet treats more than he should, considering he’s a dancer, but tonight he figures he’s earned it after the afternoon he had.

Stiles and his father are sitting at their usual booth near the window, flipping through their menus. Well… _Stiles_ is flipping through his menu. The sheriff is too busy giving the young man this questioning look that’s making Stiles nervous.

“What?” Stiles asks, putting the menu down to speak to his father.

“Something’s going on with you, kid, and I wish you would tell me what it is without me having to pry it out of you.”

Stiles sighs, thankful when the waitress comes over to take their order so he’s saved from his father’s line of questioning. The sheriff orders steak and potatoes and Stiles doesn’t even bat an eye. He’s too busy ducking down in the booth because a dark-haired, green-eyed basketball player has just walked into the diner.

Derek takes a seat at the counter, greeting the older woman standing behind it with a polite smile, and Stiles starts cursing again because he has the absolute _worst_ luck in the world. Of course he and Derek are at this diner at the same time; _of course they are_.

Stiles is practically on the floor at this point and when he glances up at his father, the older man stares at him as if he’s lost his mind…which clearly he has since he’s currently on the floor in the middle of a diner hiding from someone.

“Do I even _want_ to know, Stiles?” He asks, and the young dancer shushes him.

Stiles hisses, “ _Shh_ , _don’t say my name_!”

His father releases a sigh, questioning, “Why not?”

“ _Because_ —” Stiles begins but cuts himself off when he bumps his head on the table, causing the salt and pepper shakers, ketchup, and mustard bottles to go flying. The commotion catches Derek’s attention, and Stiles curses once more because Derek’s eyes widen when he spots him.

Derek’s eyes go from wide and shocked to…to something else, something that Stiles refuses to acknowledge until his father speaks. “Stiles, do you want to tell me why there’s a young man at the counter staring at you with sad, puppy dog eyes?”

Stiles bumps his head again before crawling back into the booth. “I don’t know,” he lies rather unconvincingly. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

The sheriff crosses his arms, glancing back at Derek, who’s still staring at Stiles with a distraught expression. “Actually, now that I’ve gotten a better look at him. He sort of fits the description of the young man my deputies saw you with last week. Derek Hale? Charles and Talia Hale’s youngest son?”

Stiles gasps dramatically. “You acted like you didn’t know who he was before.”

“So did you,” the sheriff counters, and Stiles’ cheeks flush a light shade of pink. “But you obviously do, seeing that you’re going out of your way to try and hide from him. I’m not sure why though. From what I hear, he’s a fine young man.”

Stiles groans, burying his face in his arms. He is _not_ having this conversation with his father. The older man says, “He’s still staring at you, and I’d like to know why. Excuse me, Derek?”

The sheriff is calling Derek’s name, and Stiles’ head shoots up from the table in a panic. “Dad, _no_!” It’s too late though because Derek is coming over to their table, looking about as anxious as Stiles feels at the moment.

Stiles turns to glance out the window, ignoring Derek, while he greets his father. “Good evening, Sheriff Stilinski. Hi, Stiles.”

The young man waves in Derek’s general direction, still not looking at him. “Derek.”

His father admonishes him for his behavior. “Stiles, you’re being rude.”

Stiles releases a sigh before turning to actually look at Derek. His breath catches in his throat because he’s gazing at him so intensely, and Stiles considers hiding back under the table. Fortunately his father is talking again, so Derek turns his attention to him.

“So, Derek, what brings you to this fine establishment this evening?” The sheriff inquires. “Picking up food for the family?

The young man shakes his head. “It’s just me tonight.”

The sheriff offers, “Well, you should join us.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide, and he tries to communicate with his father, without _actually_ communicating, that inviting Derek to have dinner with them is the worst idea _ever_. When that doesn’t work, he attempts to kick his father’s leg under the table but that doesn’t go over well with the sheriff.

“Stiles, if you were trying to kick me, you missed.”

The young man drops his head back to the table with a groan. This can’t possibly be happening to him. He pinches his arm, hoping that maybe he’s in the middle of some nightmare and can wake himself up. Stiles lifts his head to find his father and Derek both staring at him, and he runs a hand over his face.

“Thank you for the offer, sheriff, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” Derek says, and Stiles nods in agreement.

“You’d _definitely_ be imposing so you should probably just…” The sheriff gives him this disapproving look, and Stiles sighs, changing his tune. “Stay. You should…stay and eat with us.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, his face hopeful, and Stiles just gives in with a small nod, scooting over so he can sit down next to him.

Unfortunately he doesn’t move over enough so Derek’s whole side is pressed against him, and Stiles can feel goosebumps popping up all over his skin. He shivers slightly, and Derek turns to look at him. Stiles doesn’t meet his eyes though, scared at the thought of what he might find in them.

After their waitress returns to take Derek’s order, the sheriff asks, “So, how do you two know each other?”

Derek starts to open his mouth to reply, but Stiles beats him to it. “We don’t. Not really. We just go to school together. He’s not…we’re not…”

The young man drifts off, unable to finish his sentence and unsure of what he even planned to say. Derek, on the other hand, apparently knows exactly what he wants to say and says it with no problem.

“We met freshmen year, but we’re just now really starting to get to know each other. Stiles is one of the most dedicated and talented people I’ve ever met, and I’m glad we’re getting the chance to sort of become friends.”

Derek bows his head after his statement while Stiles gapes at him. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Derek thinks _he’s_ talented? Derek Hale, basketball player/dancer/ _Call of Duty_ aficionado called _Stiles_ talented and dedicated?

_No_ , not possible. He’s just being nice because he’s having dinner with Stiles and his father, the young man deduces. It’s nothing more than that…it _can’t_ be anything more than that.

“I actually tried out for Spin Cycle this afternoon,” Derek adds. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow if I made it or not.”

“Oh, so you’re a dancer too?” The sheriff inquires, clearly impressed. “Can’t you tell him now if he made it, Stiles?”

Stiles quickly shakes his head no, hears himself mutter something about it being unfair to the rest of the people who tried out, and Derek agrees with him. “I can wait until tomorrow,” he tells him. “I’m a very patient person. I can wait for however long it takes.”

Stiles doesn’t think anything of Derek’s words, but the sheriff is smiling at them like he knows something they don’t and this whole situation has turned incredibly frustrating for Stiles. His dad is in the middle of a pleasant conversation with a guy who, up until like a week ago, had barely said two words to him.

It’s weird but at the same time, kind of not? Stiles doesn’t really know what to think, but he’s grateful when their food arrives so he can concentrate on eating and not the way Derek’s body feels so close to his.

Stiles scarfs down his food, rather unattractively, and the check can’t come fast enough for him. Derek’s taking out his wallet to pay for his portion of the bill, but of course the sheriff stops him. “It’s on me.”

Derek thanks him before standing up from the booth. “I guess I should head home. Thanks again for dinner, sheriff. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

“ _Actually_ ,” the older man begins, getting up from his seat, “why don’t you stay, Derek, and have dessert with Stiles?”

Stiles knocks over all the condiments on the table for the second time that evening because his father has gone insane and he tries to tell him so. “ _Dad_ , what are you—”

He interrupts Stiles before he can finish his inquiry. “I have to go back in to the station for a bit, but I should be back later tonight. I can trust you to get him home okay, can’t I?” The sheriff’s question is directed at Derek, who quickly nods.

“Um, sure, I can do that.”

The older man leaves money for the food and then says, “All right then. See you boys later. It was very nice meeting you, Derek.”

“Nice meeting you too, sir.”

And just like that, his dad leaves him alone… _with Derek_. Stiles slumps down in his seat in complete disbelief. His father is going to pay for this. The only things he’ll be eating for the next few weeks are kale and even more kale.

Stiles is still thinking of different healthy foods to feed to the sheriff when Derek says, “We don’t have to stay. I could just take you home now if you want me to.”

Stiles waves his hand flippantly and then reaches for the dessert menu. “I’m ordering the biggest sundae they’ve got and eating the whole thing in one sitting. You’re welcome to join me or not; it doesn’t matter to me either way. I can just call Scott and ask him to—”

“I’ll stay,” Derek blurts, sliding into the sheriff’s vacant seat. Stiles shrugs dismissively, trying to decide what flavors of ice cream he’s going to get.

He’s about to call the waitress over to tell her that he’s going to need a scoop of every flavor but Derek’s voice stops him. “I’m sorry,” he practically whispers, “for whatever I did earlier. I’m sorry.”

The young dancer’s face falls because Derek’s apology seems truly sincere, but it’s completely unnecessary because he hasn’t done anything wrong. If anything, it’s _Stiles_ who needs to apologize to him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he admits. “I was just…I was being stupid. I keep doing stupid things _around_ you and _to_ you, and I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry for treating you like crap when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

“Not always,” Derek reminds him with a guilty expression. “I wasn’t always nice, and I’m sorry for that. I really do want to be your friend, Stiles. I want…”

He trails off, but Stiles is way too interested in the direction this conversation has taken to just let the issue drop. “You want what, exactly? What do you want, Derek?”

The question sounds funny to Stiles’ ears, probably because his voice got all low and husky when he asked, not that he meant it to. It just came out that way.

Derek’s eyes are darting around the diner as if he’s trying to look anywhere other than at Stiles. His right leg is bouncing up and down and his hands have found purchase in tearing up a straw wrapper.

It takes him a while to finally answer but when he does the response sounds rushed. “Dessert. I want dessert. Ice cream really does sound good right now.”

Derek calls for the waitress while Stiles’ eyes narrow at him. Derek is lying to him. He’s not sure why, but he wants to find out. The pair sit in relative silence until their ice cream arrives; Derek’s a modest three-scoop banana split and Stiles with about eight different flavors covered in every topping available.

Stiles digs into his right away, making obscene noises as he does and licking the spoon clean after each bite. He’s sucking absentmindedly on his spoon when he realizes Derek has yet to take one bite of his dessert. The young man is simply staring at Stiles; his gaze much darker than usual.

Stiles unceremoniously drops the spoon to the table, blushing, as he asks, “You’re not going to eat?”

Derek seems to come back around at this point because his eyes return to their normal color. “What?”

“I just asked if you were going to eat,” Stiles repeats, and he nods, finally taking a bite of the sweet treat.

Derek is taking another bite when he says, “I remember one time Cora and me dared Laura to eat like five of these banana splits in one sitting.”

“She did it, didn’t she?”

He nods. “Yup, and paid for it. She was sick for about a week afterwards.”

They both laugh until Stiles reveals, “Me and my mom used to come here every Wednesday afternoon for chocolate milkshakes. She always said how the middle of the week was always the toughest and that milkshakes could help us get through it. It took me and my dad a while to come back here after she…”

Stiles takes a shaky breath, leaving the sentence hanging, and is surprised when Derek reaches across the table to intertwine their fingers. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t apologize the way most people do when Stiles has trouble speaking about his mother, and the young man appreciates that. Derek just holds his hand, and nothing about it feels weird at all. In fact, his hand in Derek’s feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“I still miss her,” he admits, eyes on the table, watching the pad of Derek’s thumb run across the top of his hand. “I guess I’ll always miss her. My mom’s the one who got me interested in dance. I think that’s why I’m fighting so hard for Spin Cycle. It feels like if I give up on it, it’s like I’m giving up on her too.”

“I’ll help you,” Derek says, catching Stiles off-guard. “Even if I don’t make it on the team; I’ll still do whatever I can to help. I know you guys turned down my father’s help, but if it comes down to it, promise me you’ll let him do something. I don’t want you to lose anything else that’s important to you.”

Stiles sucks in a breath because Derek is gazing at him again like he’s trying to tell him something, and it’s making him feel lightheaded but not in a bad way. He nods, agreeing to Derek’s proposal. “Okay. If things get really bad, your father can help.”

“Good.” He and Derek are still holding hands, and it appears as though Derek has no intentions of pulling away. When he finally does though, Stiles can’t help missing the feeling but doesn’t dwell on what that might mean.

The mood between them lightens considerably when Derek points to Stiles’ dessert and says, “Your big bowl of ice cream is starting to melt.”

“I like it better that way,” Stiles insists, taking another bite. “It’s like a big bowl of ice cream soup.”

The basketball player makes a face at him. “That’s disgusting, Stiles.”

“You’re just jealous of my ice cream soup. Admit it, Derek.”

He swallows another spoonful, gagging as he does, and Derek chuckles softly. “Oh yeah, I’m green with envy.”

Stiles gags through another bite as he says, “I knew it.”

They finish up their ice cream and after Stiles pays, the pair walk outside to Derek’s car. Stiles shakes his head when he sees the Camaro. “You are perpetuating _so_ many stereotypes by driving this car.”

Derek lifts an eyebrow, and Stiles translates the action to mean, “What are you talking about?” He rolls his eyes skyward as he replies, “Of course the hot jock has to drive the hot car. You couldn’t just be driving a normal car like a _Toyota_ or something. Oh no, it has to be big, dark, and _mysterious_.”

They get into the vehicle together and Derek points out, “You said I’m hot.”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “We’ve been over this before, Derek, so there’s no need to fish for compliments. You know you’re hot; _everyone_ knows it.”

The skin under Derek’s stubble turns pink as he stammers, “You know, you’re…you’re hot too.”

“ _Me_?” Stiles exclaims incredulously. “I think you’re confusing me with the group of beautiful people I hang out with. My _friends_ are hot, and I’m…well, I’m just Stiles.”

Derek shakes his head, laughing lightly as he speaks. “You don’t…You don’t even realize it, do you? _Oh my god_ , you are _literally_ the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

Stiles’ eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you—”

He doesn’t get to finish his question because Derek launches himself over the console between them and captures his lips in the most heated kiss of Stiles’ life…not that he has much to compare it to. His only other kiss came in sixth grade at his very first boy/girl party. Megan Sawyer had braces and tasted like beef jerky for whatever reason…this is kiss is _so_ much different than that one.

Derek’s mouth is hot against his. He’s sucking on his bottom lip, and Stiles’ mouth falls open in a soft moan, allowing Derek’s tongue to lick its way inside. His hands are carding through Stiles’ hair, causing the young man to shiver. Derek swallows every little needy sound that escapes from Stiles’ lips and even makes a few of his own.

Derek runs his tongue over his cupid’s bow and then leans down to nip at his jawline. Stiles’ brain is caught up in a haze of want, but he manages to find his way back to saner territory long enough to break away from Derek, collapsing back against his seat, panting heavily. He glances over at Derek and finds him just as affected as he is and can’t help feeling a little pleased about that.

The basketball player pulls himself together much quicker than Stiles though, running a hand through his hair and taking a calming breath. “I’m going to drive you home,” he says and starts up the car, speeding out of the parking lot without another word.

Stiles is too out of it to even question how Derek even knows where he lives. But before he knows it, Derek’s pulling the Camaro into the driveway of his house and putting it in park. Derek doesn’t even look at him when he says, “Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles wants to say something, knows he should say _something_ but can’t even begin to find the right words to express what he’s feeling at the moment. So, he settles for a simple, “Good night, Derek,” and flees from the car in a hurry.

He stumbles up the steps of his front porch, struggles to get his keys out, and takes one last look at the Camaro before shutting the door and leaning back against it.

Stiles releases a soft sigh and reaches up to trace his fingers over his lips. He can still feel Derek’s mouth warm and inviting against his, and the young man can’t help grinning. Forget the kale, Stiles plans on making his dad the biggest, unhealthiest breakfast he's ever had in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, first kiss! Things can only get better from here, right? Right?! Chapter 14 will be posted as soon as possible!


	14. Quick, Quick Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wants to talk to Derek, and Derek assumes the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for the comments and kudos. I'm loving writing this story and I'm loving that you guys are enjoying it.

Derek’s reconsidering the homeschooling option. Initially it sounded like a bad idea, but after what he pulled this evening homeschooling may be his only course of action, that or moving away altogether.

Yes, moving away might be the better choice. If Derek’s away from Beacon Hills, there won’t be any chance for him to run into any gorgeous, messy-haired dancers. Perhaps Charlie will allow Derek to join him in New York to finish his senior year. Three-thousand miles might be _just_ enough space to put between himself and Stiles so Derek can stop feeling so mortified about what he’s done.

He _kissed_ Stiles, grabbed him and kissed him like a crazy person after things were actually starting to improve between them. Now Stiles probably won’t even want to look at him, much less want him on his team or as a friend.

Derek pulls his phone out of his pocket with the intent of contacting Charlie but doesn’t even get the chance to press one button because Cora snatches it away from him.

“You’re not moving to New York,” she says, tossing his phone across the room.

After Derek had managed to get himself back home after dropping Stiles off, he tried to sneak up to his room without anyone noticing but ran into Cora on his way upstairs. Of course she looked at him and could tell right away something had happened. Derek told her everything, how he had dinner with Stiles and his father, dessert with just Stiles, and how he leapt over the seat in his Camaro to plaster himself all over the young man.

“I _kissed_ him, Cora,” Derek reminds her and his sister rolls her eyes.

“I _know_. You told me…several times. I still fail to see what the problem is. You kissed the guy you’re in love with; what’s wrong with that?”

He exclaims, “ _Everything_! You know why, because he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

Derek falls back on his bed with a heavy sigh. He can only imagine what Stiles is doing right at this moment. Probably calling Scott and Lydia to tell them what a horrible person he is and that he shouldn’t be allowed to join Spin Cycle or be anywhere near him. Maybe Stiles has already gone down to the station to file a restraining order against him. He’ll probably get the paperwork in the morning.

“You are _clearly_ overthinking this,” his sister comments, and Derek realizes he must’ve said most of what he was thinking out loud. “Look, stop worrying. You’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure Stiles didn’t have a problem with you kissing him.”

Derek’s about to argue, but Cora puts up a hand to stop him. “And even if he did, which I _know_ he didn’t, you’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just deal with it…by moving to New York.” The young man pounces to grab his phone, but Cora’s faster than him, getting her hands on it again before he can.

“Mention moving to New York again and I’ll call Stiles myself and force you to talk to him right now instead of tomorrow like you planned.”

Derek waves his hands out in front of him. “Whoa, hold on, who said anything about talking to Stiles tomorrow?”

Cora frowns at him. “Oh Derek, please don’t tell me you plan on trying to avoid him until graduation because you know that’s not going to happen.”

“It can happen…if I’m in New York,” he adds, and the young woman picks up one of his pillows and throws it at him.

“You’re not moving to New York! You’re going to talk to Stiles and even if things don’t go the way you want them to, you’ve got our friends and you’ve got me. You’ll get through it.”

Derek reluctantly nods in agreement and hugs her, thankful that his younger sister has more sense than he does half the time. He’s going to have to face Stiles tomorrow, and he has no clue what the hell he’s going to say to him when he finally does.

Knowing Derek’s luck he’ll probably just stand there staring at him like an idiot until Stiles walks away, completely dismissing him from his life. He’s not looking forward to having this conversation, not at all.

Derek takes his time getting ready for school in the morning. He does everything at half-speed; showering, dressing, and eating slower than usual.

Cora rolls her eyes at his behavior. “You’re acting like a child,” she says before walking out of the house to hop in the car with Erica and Boyd, who both wave at Derek and then speed away.

The young man closes the door with a frown. He’s not acting like a child. Is it childish to want to completely avoid difficult situations?

“It’s a little childish,” he admits under his breath. Derek sighs, checking the clock; he leaves from the house about twenty minutes later than he usually does which means the first period bell is close to ringing by the time he gets to school.

Derek sprints down the nearly empty hallways, relief flooding through him. There’s a chance he might be late to class but at least there’s no way he’ll run into Stiles this morning. _No way at all_.

He’s turning a corner, skidding as he does so, when he bumps right into someone, knocking the unsuspecting person to the floor. Derek starts to apologize but can’t even get the words out when he realizes who he's bumped into.

Stiles is on the floor, rubbing his lower back and grumbling to himself until he looks up and sees Derek. His facial expression changes and he looks as though he wants to speak to him. Derek, however, doesn’t wait for Stiles to start laying into him about the kiss. He quickly pulls Stiles to his feet, apologizes for bumping into him, and then rushes past the young man in a hurry.

Derek smacks a hand over his forehead. He thought he wouldn’t have to see Stiles first thing in the morning, but leave it to Derek to go out of his way to try to avoid him and end up running right into him.

“ _Just great_ ,” he mutters, successfully slipping into his first period class just before the rings. He takes a seat, relieved that he won’t have to see Stiles again until history.

At least he _thinks_ he won’t see him until history but when Derek walks out of his literature class, Stiles is standing right outside the door…almost as if he was waiting for him.

“Can I talk to you?” Stiles asks, and Derek notes the dancer’s rigid posture and the way his fists are clenched at his sides. He’s probably pissed, not only for the kiss but for bumping into him earlier, and Derek’s not about to stick around to get chewed out by him.

“I…have a thing I need to do before my next class,” he replies weakly and it’s quite possibly the _worst_ excuse in the world, but Derek scurries away at that point so Stiles doesn’t get the opportunity to call him out on his horrible lie.

Derek assumes he’s safe for now, but the same thing happens again after his second class of the day. Stiles is waiting out in the hallway for him, and Derek comes up with some lame reason to bolt before they can have a conversation.

It happens again after third period and lunch as well. When fourth period rolls around, Derek spends the entire time pretending to listen attentively to their teacher and ignoring the looks Stiles keeps throwing his way.

History class goes by quickly and when it ends, Derek tries to leave with Boyd and Isaac. His friends both shake their heads at him though and instead join Scott and Lydia, who are on their way out of the room…without Stiles.

Stiles, who corners Derek outside the doorway of their classroom, doesn’t look angry, but his face _is_ a little green. He’s almost the same complexion he was that day when he got sick. Derek winces, wondering just how bad Stiles must’ve thought their kiss was if he looks as though he’s going to throw up.

“I know you have study hall after this,” Stiles reveals once they’ve moved aside to a less-crowded space in the hallway, “so you shouldn’t be in that much of a hurry unless you have another _thing_ to do.”

“You know my schedule?” Derek asks, and Stiles tenses, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

“That doesn’t really matter, who knows whose schedule.” Derek nods in agreement, holding back a grin, until Stiles adds, “What’s important right now is that you and me need to talk about what happened last night.”

Derek swallows hard; he can’t do this. He can’t handle what he knows is about to happen, Stiles kicking him out of his life for good. “I can’t talk right now,” he says, voice shaky. “I have to go see Coach about the changes in my practice schedule.”

It’s not a _total_ lie; he _does_ have to talk to his coach, just not until tomorrow…but Stiles doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay, we can talk later then, after the announcements about tryouts,” he suggests. “We’re not rehearsing or anything afterwards, and I know you don’t have basketball practice either.”

Derek furrows his eyebrows at him, inquiring, “Should I be worried about how well you know my schedule?”

Stiles ignores his question, choosing instead to start walking backwards in the opposite direction and calling out to him, “You should get going. Don’t want to keep your coach waiting, do you?”

Derek watches him leave, sighing softly. Stiles is doing a fairly good job of hiding his disdain towards him, but Derek knows as soon as they get a chance to really discuss what occurred between them, Stiles’ true feelings will come bubbling to the surface. He’ll tell Derek that he hates him and wants him out of his life. Derek isn’t ready to let Stiles go yet but if things go the way he thinks they will, he may be forced to.

When he gets to study hall and takes a seat beside his friends, Derek scowls at Isaac and Boyd for leaving him in the lurch with Stiles. “I really appreciate you guys having my back,” he says with folded arms, but the two boys aren’t bothered by his words.

“I thought we were doing you a favor,” Boyd states with a half-shrug.

“Yeah, seriously,” Isaac adds with a sly grin, “giving you some alone time with Stiles. We thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Not when I know it’s going to lead to him cursing me out and telling me he never wants to see me again,” Derek states, lowering his head to the desk.

Erica’s eyes roll skyward at him. “You are being _so_ overly dramatic right now, Derek. You kissed him; it’s not like you threw his puppy down a flight of stairs or something.”

“Your mind can go to some pretty morbid places sometimes,” Boyd says, and Erica grins at him.

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

Boyd doesn’t deny her statement but then says to Derek, “Stop thinking the worst is going to happen. There’s a possibility that Stiles _liked_ you kissing him.”

Cora agrees, “Yeah, you said he didn’t pull back right away so that’s gotta mean something.”

“He was probably too disgusted to move,” Derek mutters, silently wondering if it’s too late to make that trip out to the east coast.

“You’re _not_ moving to New York,” his friends say in unison, and the young man groans, kind of hating the fact they know him so well. Derek glances up at the clock; time is moving too quickly for him.

The bell rings and Derek’s forced to head to his gym class. He assumes Stiles might decide to change his mind and talk to him there, but the young dancer sticks close to Danny and Allison the whole period, only occasionally glancing his way but then quickly turning back to his friends.

Derek can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than Stiles, and when he misses his fifth shot in a row, Jackson comments on it. “Would you quit worrying? Stilinski’s got a major boner for you.”

“Please, Jackson, be cruder,” Boyd jokes, tossing a ball at him that Jackson catches easily.

“Just stating facts,” he responds with a dismissive shrug. “Stilinski wants the D. Everyone seems to know it, except for Derek because he’s an idiot.”

The young man’s mouth drops open but then he closes it, shaking his head. “Nope, you’re wrong. Stiles doesn’t want me.”

Jackson gestures at Derek. “See? _Idiot_.”

Derek glares at his friend, who laughs in return, before taking another shot at the hoop. He misses entirely, sighing afterwards, and walking over to take a seat on the bleachers. Derek spots Stiles across the gym and watches him with a sad expression. Jackson’s wrong, all of his friends are wrong. Stiles doesn’t like him that way and maybe the sooner he accepts that, the easier his life will be.

Derek chuckles sardonically. “Yeah, right.”

Thirty minutes later, Derek and his three friends are heading down to the basement to find out if they’ve made it onto Spin Cycle or not. Erica and Cora are confident while Isaac’s nervous about the outcome despite claiming to try out only because he lost at rock, paper, scissors. Derek’s more concerned about the conversation he and Stiles are going to have later to be worried about whether or not he’s made the team.

The other members are already in the dance studio when the foursome arrives, and Stiles immediately calls the group to order as if he’s in a hurry to get the meeting started.

“So, let’s get right to it…all four of you have made it onto Spin Cycle! Congratulations!” He announces and the group cheers and whoops loudly.

Once they’ve settled down, Stiles adds, “Lydia will give you guys the list of rules and the practice schedule, and we’ll start working on routines tomorrow, but for now you should celebrate because with our new additions Spin Cycle’s going to be better than ever!”

Cora and Erica yell, “Hell yeah!” and their friends laugh but agree with their sentiment.

While his friends are making plans to go out to eat together, Derek is trying to slip out of the room unnoticed. He _almost_ makes it, but Stiles slides in front of him right before he gets to the door.

“Were you trying to leave just now?” Stiles asks, and Derek scoffs lightly.

“ _No_. I was just…” Stiles gives him this look, and Derek immediately deflates. “I wasn’t leaving.”

“Good, because we still need to talk.”

Derek rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flittering around the room so he doesn’t have to focus on Stiles’ warm, whiskey-colored eyes. Derek _really_ doesn’t want to do this; he _can’t_ have this conversation. He needs to find a way out of it.

“You know what,” Derek begins, still avoiding looking at Stiles, “I just remembered that I…have to do something for my mom, so yeah, I gotta go.”

He starts to make a beeline for the door, but it’s Cora who stops him from doing so. “Oh Derek, I told _mom_ I’d take care of that _thing_ she wanted you to do, so stay, talk to Stiles for as _long_ as you need to.”

She pats him on the shoulder with a grin while he glares at her. Erica adds, “Take your time,” and Derek resists the urge to face palm because his sister and friends are the worst people in the world.

The group leaves them alone, and Derek knows this is it. Whatever budding relationship he and Stiles may have had is about to be over before it even really starts. He refuses to let that happen though, so Derek does the only thing he can think of to try and repair the damage…he apologizes profusely.

“I’m so sorry for kissing you!” He shouts, causing Stiles to jump at his outburst. He should probably stop talking, but now that he’s started speaking, Derek can’t keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“It was a mistake. I got caught up in the moment; it never should’ve happened, and I’m _so_ incredibly sorry, Stiles. We were finally starting to become friends, and I messed everything up, and I’m sorry. Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Derek waits for Stiles’ reaction, wringing his hands as he does so. He expects Stiles to yell at him and tell him his apology means nothing to him…but surprisingly that doesn’t happen. Stiles stares at him for a while; an expression covers his face, one Derek doesn’t recognize, but it doesn’t last very long.

It feels like an eternity passes before Stiles finally speaks; his tone is much softer than Derek expected it to be. “It’s okay, Derek. You didn’t have to say all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he retorts. “Kissing you was a _huge_ mistake, and trust me when I say it’ll _never_ happen again.”

Stiles gives him a funny look after his statement, but Derek is still too busy throwing himself on the mercy of the court to think about what it might mean. “I don’t want things to go back to the way they were between us. I want us to be friends.”

Stiles nods slowly in agreement; his voice stilted as he says, “Sure…of course. That’s…That’s what I want too. To be friends. With you.”

Derek releases a sigh of relief. “Good. I was really worried that I messed things up between us.”

“No, you didn’t. Everything’s fine. _Just fine_.”

The young man beams at Stiles and then suggests, “Hey, since everything worked out okay, do you want to catch up with everybody else and get something to eat?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replies, that same peculiar expression returning to his face. The basketball player’s so relieved that he hasn’t totally ruined things with Stiles that he doesn’t even question him about it.

Derek wants there to be more than friendship between himself and the young dancer, but he knows Stiles is not even _close_ to being ready for something like that. Stiles wants to be just friends, and Derek’s okay with that; it’s really the best he can hope for at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost considered just leaving you guys hanging after that last chapter, but that would've been awfully cruel of me. Though maybe not as cruel as this chapter was. *evil laughter* Chapter 15 will be posted as soon as possible!


	15. You and I Are Finally Synchronized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is about 1847% sure Derek's not being completely honest with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end! Thanks to everyone who stuck around with me, especially after that last chapter. I think you'll be satisfied with this one.

Derek’s a lying liar, Stiles deduces, as he watches the young man converse brightly with Scott and Kira. Instead of going out to eat like they planned, the group ended up going back to Derek and Cora’s house instead. Now they’re all sitting around the Hale’s family room, eating junk food from the family’s well-stocked pantry, talking, laughing, and occasionally dancing to the music Cora put on after they arrived.

Stiles has watched Derek interact with his friends the whole time, wondering how anyone could be _so damn_ _thickheaded_. Stiles spent the _entire_ day trying to get the basketball player alone so he could tell him that the kiss they shared was amazing and that he’d like the chance to explore the possibility of becoming more than friends.

But once they finally got some time to themselves, Stiles couldn’t even get a word in before Derek busted out his whole spiel about the kiss being a mistake and how it’ll _never_ happen again.

So, Stiles told him what he wanted to hear at the time, that everything was okay and that they could be friends even though it’s so _painfully obvious_ that neither of them want that. Derek’s being stupid, so now it’s up to Stiles to figure out a way to show him that being just friends is the _last_ thing he wants.

Lydia sits down next to him on the couch, arching a questioning eyebrow at him when she sees the expression he’s wearing.

“You’re plotting, aren’t you? Why are you plotting and how come I’m not involved? What’s going on? Talk to me, Stiles, what happened between you and Derek after we left? Obviously it didn’t go well because if it had, you two would be upstairs in his room by yourselves, not down here with us.”

“ _Just be cool_ ,” he whispers, waving good-naturedly at Derek when he catches his eye.

Once he returns to his conversation with Scott and Kira, Stiles turns to Lydia and says in a low voice, “Derek’s a liar who lies…badly, _very_ badly. He said the kiss was a mistake, that he got caught up in the moment; I don’t know it just all sounded really ridiculous. That kiss was not ‘getting caught up in the moment’. That kiss was life-changing and we both know it. Derek’s just being an idiot about it, and now I have to find a way to get him to _stop_ being an idiot about it.”

Lydia grins widely, throwing an arm around him. “Oh my god, I thought for sure _you’d_ be the one still stuck on stupid.”

Stiles frowns at her. “Always thinking the best of me, huh, Lydia?”

She half-shrugs at him in response. “Well, I mean, you have been _pretty_ oblivious up until this point.”

He nods in agreement. “You’re right. But now _Derek’s_ being the oblivious one, and I’m not sure how I’m going to fix that.”

“You _could_ just talk to him,” Lydia suggests, smacking the young man on the back of the head.

Stiles rubs the spot where she hit him, pouting as he says, “Talking’s not going to be good enough. What I need…is a grand gesture.”

Stiles doesn’t want to compare his life to a sappy romantic comedy but with all the craziness and misunderstandings he and Derek have gone through, he can’t help thinking they’re both trapped in some movie. And what does the leading male in a movie _do_ when he wants to win his beloved? A grand gesture.

His friend has a differing opinion though because she quickly shakes her head at his suggestion. “Oh no, Stiles, _don’t_ , that could blow up in your face and make things worse. It’s better if you just _talk_ to Derek and tell him how you feel.”

“I already tried that,” he reminds her, “and he wouldn’t let me and that’s how we ended up here instead of making out in the back of his Camaro like we _should_ be doing. No, if I’m going to get it through that thick skull of his that I’m completely gone on him, then I need to pull out all the stops.”

“Well, if you’re going to do this, then you’re going to need help. And who are the most devious people we know…besides me, of course?”

The pair shares a look before turning their gazes on Erica and Cora. After she and Stiles reach a silent agreement, Lydia says, “I’m on it. _You_ go talk to Derek; maybe you can at least _try_ to start convincing him that you have genuine feelings for him.”

Stiles points out, “He spent the whole day running away from me, Lydia. It might take a _whole_ lot to make him believe that.”

“Then you’ve got some work to do,” she says, patting him on the shoulders before moving to sit beside Erica and Cora to let them on their plan.

Stiles takes a deep breath and then makes his way over to where Derek is seated. He’s still talking with Kira and Scott, but when they see Stiles coming over, the couple makes themselves scarce, giving the young dancer encouraging smiles as they go.

When Stiles sits down next to Derek, he flashes him a wide smile. “Hey _friend_ ,” he says putting unnecessary emphasis on the one word, “how’s it going?”

“A lot better than I thought it would be,” Derek replies, and Stiles furrows his eyebrows at him.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, I figured by this point you wouldn’t even be speaking to me,” he admits, “so things are going better than expected. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“ _Me too_ ,” Stiles says, and how Derek doesn’t hear the bitterness in his voice is beyond him. He’s about to speak again when the sound of a low rumbling catches his attention and he glances over at Derek in surprise. “Was that your stomach?”

The basketball player bows his head as he responds, “Yeah. I was kind of nervous today so I didn’t eat much. Truth be told, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“What?” Stiles exclaims, taking note of the uneaten snacks sitting before Derek on the table and smiling to himself because he’s now found a reason to spend some quality time alone with the young man. “You should let me cook for you,” he suggests, and Derek gapes at him.

“You’d cook for me, _just_ for me?”

“Well, _I guess_ I could make enough for these guys,” he says, gesturing to their friends. “But it would mostly be for you…if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Derek replies quickly, and Stiles grins at him.

“There’s one catch though; you’ve gotta be my sous-chef which means you’d have to stay in the kitchen with me the _whole_ time.”

He nods in agreement. “I’d be okay with that.”

“Good.” Stiles pulls Derek to his feet before saying, “Lead the way.”

Stiles follows Derek to the kitchen, and even though it’s his second time being there, he’s still in awe of it. There’s an infinite amount of space, probably enough room to make an eight-course meal, with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

After the boys wash their hands at the sink, Derek takes a seat at the breakfast bar while Stiles gets himself acquainted with the ins and outs of the Hale family kitchen. He starts bustling about the kitchen, locating all the ingredients needed to make his mother’s meatloaf and potatoes recipe. Once he’s got all the seasonings and vegetables, he puts Derek to work chopping up green peppers while he handles the onions.

Stiles dices up the onion easily and when he finishes, realizes Derek hasn’t made any headway on the peppers. The young man is too busy watching him work to get any chopping done.

“You’re amazing,” Derek says fondly, and Stiles feels his face grow hot from the simple compliment.

“Thanks, but it really doesn’t take much skill to chop up vegetables…though you seem to be having a little trouble over there,” he points out with a small grin. “Do you need some help?”

Derek assures him, “I got it. I was just a little…distracted.”

“By me?” Stiles asks boldly, and the young man ducks his head, stammering as he responds.

“ _No_. Not by you. It’s just…these peppers. They’re so green,” he says, holding them up to show them off. “I mean, look at them. They’re really green, right?”

Stiles puts his knife down to cross his arms and inquire, “ _So_ , you were distracted by the greenness of the peppers?”

Derek hesitates and when he responds his answer sounds more like question. “ _Yes_.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles mutters, seriously questioning his taste in potential soul mates, but then he sees the flush growing on Derek’s cheeks and wonders how he’s lived without him for so long.

While the vegetables are sautéing in the skillet, they start on the potatoes. Derek uses a potato peeler, but Stiles shows off a bit, using a knife to take the peel off the potatoes in one long piece.

“How did you learn to do all this?” Derek asks, still fumbling with his first potato while Stiles starts on his fourth.

“My mom showed me how to do a little bit before she passed,” Stiles replies, voice soft.

His mind momentarily flashes back to the evenings he’d spend in the kitchen with his mom while she cooked dinner for them. Claudia would let him season the meat and mash the potatoes, and she’d always smile and say her little hoofer was just as talented in the kitchen as he was on the dance floor.

Stiles releases a soft sigh before adding, “Afterwards, I basically taught myself everything I know. My dad, well, it took him a little while to…get back to himself after we lost my mom. She left a pretty extensive recipe catalogue though, so I started off with simple stuff and then moved on to more complicated ones when I got older. I couldn’t let me and my dad live off takeout for the rest of our lives, could I?”

He sucks in a breath, willing himself not to let his eyes fill up with tears like they usually do when he speaks of the time right after his mother’s death. Derek surprises him by taking his hand the way he did last night at the diner.

Derek tells him, “You're the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I thought I was the most ridiculous,” Stiles jokes, but Derek shakes his head.

“You get good grades, you’re captain of your team, you're a good friend, and you take care of your dad. I’d be a wreck if I was in your shoes, and yet you’re handling everything so well.”

“It’s not easy, but I get by.”

“I think you do a little bit more than that,” Derek says, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

He doesn’t seem to realize right away that they’re still so close, but the moment he does, Derek pulls away from him, and Stiles wants to bang his head against the granite countertop.

“So, what’s next?” He asks, gesturing to the vegetables that have finished cooking.

Stiles massages his temples before replying, “We need to season the meat and mix in the vegetables, egg, and bread crumbs. That’ll be your job while I cut up the potatoes.

Derek nods and starts sprinkling seasonings into the big bowl of ground beef while Stiles slices the potatoes into wedges. He’s put in the egg and bread crumbs and is about to start stirring up the mixture with a spoon when Stiles stops him.

“Whoa, hold on, what are you doing?”

The young man looks at him as if he’s spouted an extra head as he responds, “Mixing this up.”

“Not with that, you’re not,” Stiles retorts, pointing to the spoon in his hand.

He walks around the island to where Derek is and takes the utensil away from him. He stands behind the basketball player back and turns him around so that he’s facing the island again. Stiles lifts Derek’s hands and places them into the bowl of meat, helping him blend the ingredients together.

“See? There’s no way you could do this with a spoon,” Stiles says, deliberately pressing himself against Derek’s back and smirking when he feels the young man shudder against him.

“No,” Derek starts, voice low and gravelly, “I guess not.”

“You gotta make sure to _really_ get your hands up in there though,” Stiles murmurs against his ear, lips grazing over the shell of it, and doesn’t miss the basketball player’s sharp intake of breath.

“ _Stiles_ …” Derek practically moans when Stiles places the softest kiss to the back of his ear.

“Yes, Derek. Is there something you want to say, something you might need to tell me?” He asks, removing Derek’s hands from the meat mixture and intertwining their fingers.

Derek surprises him when he turns to rest his forehead against Stiles’. Their noses brush each other lightly, but Derek doesn’t move in to kiss him, just speaks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

“You’re not…You’re not messing with me, are you? I thought you…you only wanted to be friends with me.”

“I only said that because _you_ said that,” Stiles reveals, and Derek pulls back from him a bit, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

“I thought that’s what you wanted!” He exclaims, and the young dancer rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been trying to get you alone _all day_ , Derek.”

“Yeah, to tell me you hated me and the kiss.”

“ _No_ ,” Stiles retorts with a shake of his head. “That’s not what I wanted to tell you, not at all. But _maybe_ if you had stuck around long enough or not made so many assumptions without even _letting me talk_ you’d know that.”

Derek’s eyes widen comically, and he tries to speak but all that seems to come out of his mouth are pathetic noises of indignation, like this whole misunderstanding is _Stiles’_ fault. “You…You really…”

Stiles smiles, nodding in response though Derek hasn’t finished his sentence. The young man inquires weakly, “You’re not messing with me?”

“No, I’m not messing with you…though I wouldn’t mind _messing around_ with you,” Stiles replies, and it’s Derek’s turn to shake his head.

“I was wrong; you _are_ the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“You love it,” Stiles says and then adds softly, “You love me.”

Derek’s whole face turns red, and he lowers his head, but Stiles won’t let him look away. “Hey, don’t do that. It’s okay; it’s _more_ than okay.”

Stiles leans back in; his lips teasing Derek’s with light touches. He’s about to make his move, and Derek’s _definitely_ not going to stop him, when the basketball player’s cell phone rings.

Derek groans in annoyance and starts to pull back so he can answer it, but Stiles tries to stop him. “No, no, no, just let it ring, _please_ , Derek.”

“It’s my mom,” he tells him, moving away to wash his hands. “Personalized ringtone.”

Stiles nods in understanding but then asks, “Wait, since you have my number, does that mean you have a ringtone for _me_? _Ooh_ , what is it? I demand that you tell me, Derek, and it better be something good.”

Derek lifts an eyebrow at him, choosing not to reply in favor of answering his phone. “We’re going to talk about this later,” Stiles says, but Derek just rolls his eyes though the action is one of fondness more than anything else.

Stiles watches Derek converse on the phone, smiling as his does so. How he could’ve gone this long without the young man in his life is a mystery to him, but he has no plans to let him go now.

“You gotta go,” Derek says after ending the call with his mother, and Stiles’ face drops.

“What, _why_?”

“It’s not what I want, _believe me_ ,” he assures him. “But my mom and dad are bringing over some potential donors for their charity, and while ‘She loves you guys very much; her home can’t be crawling with teenagers right now’ her exact words, so you and everybody else have to leave. I’m sorry.”

“Well, can’t you come with us? I want to spend more time with you,” Stiles practically whines, and Derek smiles at him.

“That’s what I want too, but Cora and I have to stay for dinner, a dinner that includes a bunch of food that I can’t even pronounce and unfortunately not meatloaf and potatoes.”

“Well, lucky for you, the meat was fresh, so it and the potatoes can be frozen and eaten at a later date.” Stiles cleans his hands before wrapping up the food and sticking it in the freezer. “I guess we better let everyone else know we have to leave.”

Derek agrees, and when the pair gets back to the family room, they find that their group of friends have moved the furniture and appear to be working on a new dance routine. They stop in the middle of it, however, when they see Derek and Stiles.

“Is everything okay?” Scott asks.

“Yup, better than okay, actually, but we have to go,” Stiles replies with a grin while Derek flushes.

Lydia concurs, grabbing Stiles’ wrist and starting to pull him to the door. “You’re _so_ right. We _really_ have to leave, so we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Stiles is about to complain about the young woman herding him out so quickly, but she gives him a look, and he sighs dramatically, but then nods. The group says their goodbyes, and Cora walks them out to their cars.

Derek’s about to follow, but Stiles grabs him, surprising the young man when he pushes him against the wall beside the doorway and presses his mouth against his. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck, fingers sliding through his thick hair, as he deepens the kiss.

Derek apparently gets over the initial shock of Stiles pushing him against the wall because his hands fall to the young dancer’s waist, pulling him closer so that their bodies are flush against each other. Stiles licks his way into Derek’s mouth while maneuvering his thigh between the young man’s legs.

Derek pulls back with a soft groan when Stiles shifts his hips and rubs his thigh against him. “If I don’t stop this now,” he begins, his head falling forward to rest against Stiles’ shoulder, “I’ll never let you leave.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” Stiles says, leaning in to place one last chaste kiss on his lips. “But your parents probably would, so I’m gonna go.” When he pulls back, Derek slumps against the wall, causing Stiles to grin. “You’ll text me later?”

Derek nods weakly, and Stiles waves one last time before walking out to join his friends. He salutes Cora, who’s on her way back into the house, and laughs when she shrieks, “ _What did you do to my brother_?!”

Lydia, Allison, and Erica are waiting beside the jeep for him, and Stiles flashes the girls a wide smile. “So, I’m guessing things went well,” Allison says.

Stiles is still grinning as he responds, “You could say that.”

“Oh my god, _finally_!” Erica exclaims, throwing her fist in the air in victory. “Wait, does that mean you’re not going through with the grand gesture?”

He replies, “Oh no, I’m still doing it, and it’s going to be _awesome_. Derek’s going to _love_ it!”

“And probably be unbelievably embarrassed by it,” Lydia adds.

Erica chimes in, “All the more reason to do it.”

“Well, if I want to do this tomorrow, we’ve got _a lot_ of work to do, so I guess it worked out good that we had to leave,” Stiles points out.

The foursome gets in his jeep and heads back to his house with Scott, Kira, Danny, and Isaac following behind them. Even though he and Derek are _finally_ where they’re supposed to be, Stiles plans on sweeping the basketball player off his feet, _but_ he’s going to need his friends’ help to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this, I think, and a small epilogue coming as soon as possible!


	16. Dancing in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes through with his grand gesture for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this. This is my first time writing sexy times so please...be gentle.

It’s kind of hard for Derek to concentrate on the conversations going on around him when all he can think about is Stiles. Stiles pressing up against him, Stiles’ fingers laced with his, Stiles’ mouth…and oh jesus, Stiles’ _mouth_.

Cora’s smirking at him from across the table which must mean he has a dopey look on his face caused by thoughts of Stiles’…well, everything. Derek needs to stop this line of thinking though before he pops an inappropriate boner during dinner with potential charity contributors. So, he smiles and makes polite conversation with them until his mom is ushering their last guests to the door and bidding them good night.

As soon as they’re gone, Derek mutters a quick good night to his mother, father, and Cora and tries to rush upstairs so he can text Stiles, but the older woman stops him.

“Tell me _all_ about it, Little Mister,” she says, and Derek releases a sigh. Why do the women in his family know him so well?

Cora cackles loudly at him. “Have fun.” She pats him on the back before walking upstairs, still laughing at her older brother, and Derek scowls until his mother speaks again.

“Come sit with me.”

He follows her into the family room and once they’re seated on the couch together, Talia asks, “So, how did everything go this afternoon?”

“Well, I made it onto Spin Cycle,” Derek reveals, and Talia smiles at him.

“That’s great, sweetheart, but you look like there’s more going on with you.”

Derek tells his mother everything that happened between last night and this evening, frowning as he recalls some parts and smiling softly during others. When he finishes his story, he adds, “I really think this could be the start of something, mom.”

Talia hugs him tightly as she tells him, “I’m so happy for you, Derek. Make sure he’s good to you and that you’re good to him.”

“I plan on it.”

After he finishes his conversation with his mother, Derek finally heads up to his room so he can text Stiles. Of course he tends to overthink everything when it comes to the young dancer, so it takes Derek nearly half an hour to compose the text to him. Stiles answers him right away, and the pair spend nearly two hours exchanging messages until Stiles tells him they should both get some rest, that they have a big day tomorrow.

Derek furrows his eyebrows at the text, wondering what Stiles could mean by that. As far as he knows tomorrow is just another normal Wednesday…except with the added bonus that he gets to spend as much time with Stiles as he wants.

Actually, that part’s not really true because they still have classes to attend throughout the day, and Derek only ends up seeing Stiles just long enough before first period for the young dancer to give him a quick kiss before he hurries off towards his class, telling Derek that he’ll see him later.

Derek frowns slightly as he watches Stiles leave. If not for the kiss they just shared, the young man might think what occurred between them yesterday had been a dream considering the way Stiles ran off just now. He tries not to worry about it, but his friends keep giving him these weird looks all day. When Derek asks Boyd about it, he just covers his mouth and tries, unsuccessfully, not to laugh at him and that reaction _can’t_ be good.

In their history class, Derek sits down next to Stiles, who gestures at his face once he’s seated at his desk. “You know, your face does this cute thing when you’re worried about something. You get this crease _right_ between those dangerous eyebrows of yours, and your nostrils kind of flair. It’s really cute.”

“How do you even know I’m worried about something?” Derek asks.

“Because that’s how you looked all day yesterday when you thought I was going to tell you off about kissing me. You were worried then, and you’re worried now for whatever reason. May I ask why?”

The young man shakes his head in response. “It’s nothing. I’m being stupid.”

“Well, you’re cute when you’re being stupid,” Stiles says with a grin, and Derek can’t help smiling back at him. Something is still nagging at him though, but he can’t figure out what it is.

However, his suspicions about something strange happening are confirmed when Derek realizes Stiles, Danny, and Allison are all missing from their last period gym class. “What’s going on?” He inquires, but both Jackson and Boyd shake their heads at him.

“Not at liberty to say,” Boyd replies at the same time as Jackson, who says, “You don’t really want to know.” Boyd shoves his friend, causing Jackson to change his tune. “You’ll find out sooner than you think.”

Derek stares at them before crossing his arms over his chest. The young man’s not sure what’s going on, but he’s sure Stiles is about to do _something_ , and most likely that something will probably embarrass the hell out of him.

When Derek walks out of the locker room an hour later after changing out of his gym uniform, his eyebrows furrow when he happens to glance down and sees several footprints placed along the floor. A sign sits next to the first set of prints that reads, “ **Follow me!** ” There’s a second sign right next to the first that says, “ **And dance while you do it!** ”

Derek immediately shakes his head. “No. No way. I’m not doing this, Stiles.”

It’s at this point Derek notices a third sign that reads, “ **Please? For me?** ”

The young man releases a heavy sigh, his head lolling back because Stiles already knows that he’ll do just about anything for him…including dancing his way down the halls of Beacon Hills’ High with most of the school watching him. Resigned to his fate, Derek sighs one last time before saying, “Well, here it goes.”

Derek steps onto the first set of footprints and starts to make his way down the hall. Students point at him as he goes past; some laugh while others give him thumbs-up, praising his “sweet moves”. Derek is twisting and turning, making sure his feet hit every single print, and he’s fairly certain he looks utterly ridiculous. He rolls his eyes, muttering, “The things I do for you.”

The basketball player is incredibly grateful upon realizing that he’s only two steps away from completing his hallway dance and that its led him to one of the school’s courtyards. The whole area is decorated in colorful flowers, balloons, and streamers, and Derek thinks he’s walked into some alternate universe until Stiles reveals himself. He’s smiling warmly at him, and Derek grins right back at him.

“So, you made it,” Stiles says, and Derek nods.

“I did…barely.”

Stiles waves a dismissive hand at him. “Oh please, you were fine; you looked good.”

“You were watching? _How_ were you watching?” Derek inquires, and Stiles shrugs.

“I have my ways... _and_ Danny may have hacked into the school’s security cameras so I could watch footage of you.”

“I’m not sure if I should be creeped out or flattered.”

Stiles answers for him. “Flattered. Always go with flattered.”

Derek rolls his eyes at him before asking, “So, what are we doing here, Stiles?”

“ _Well_ ,” the young man begins, “I wanted you to know how I feel about you, that I’m completely crazy about you. But I thought me just saying the words wouldn’t be enough, _so_ me and our friends planned this big grand gesture to show you how I feel.”

“But I know how you feel now so there’s really no need for—”

Stiles cuts him off in the middle of his sentence. “There’s always a need for a grand gesture, Derek, _always_.”

Music starts up at this point, a romantic ballad that Derek would usually pretend not to recognize, but he knows it’s Justin Timberlake's _Not a Bad Thing_. He can’t blame knowing this information on Cora because the young man has always had a bit of a crush on the pop singer, actually still has one, but nobody else needs to know that.

Stiles starts to dance and seeing him up close like this is quite a sight to behold. He moves in ways that Derek can only dream about; he’s agile, his feet are quick but still smooth, and his body flows perfectly to the music.

The rest of their friends join Stiles, moving in sync with him. There’s a large crowd of people watching the performance, but Stiles only has eyes for Derek. Even while completing the difficult steps, the young dancer focuses solely on him, and Derek can’t say he doesn’t love having his attention.

Stiles stops in the middle of the dance to hold his hand out to Derek, who gladly accepts it, and the pair wrap their arms around each other, swaying to the music while their friends continue their choreographed moves.

Their audience applauds for them, and Derek hides his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, murmuring, “This was _so_ unnecessary.”

“It was completely necessary,” Stiles retorts. “And you loved every minute of it.”

Derek lifts his head to disagree but when he’s met with Stiles’ loving gaze, the young man finds it difficult to argue with him about anything.

“I was wondering,” Stiles begins, his mouth close to Derek’s ear as he speaks, “if you were doing anything Friday night. My dad has an overnight shift, so I was thinking you could come over and we’d marathon all the _Marvel_ movies if you wanted, maybe you could quote some _Captain America_ to me.”

Derek flushes at his low tone and the smile that crosses Stiles’ lips when he looks at him and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

Stiles leans in to brush his lips sweetly against Derek’s, and the crowd and their friends “ _Aww_ ” in unison. Derek drops his head onto Stiles' shoulder while the young dancer laughs, shooing everyone away. “Okay, people, get back to your own lives, please!”

Derek chuckles as he and Stiles continue to move together to the music. They stay like this until both Coach Finstocks crash their private party, telling the young men that while they’re happy for them, they can’t stay in the school’s courtyard blasting music for much longer. Stiles and Derek leave at this point, their fingers intertwined, and Derek can’t remember the last time he was this happy.

“Stiles wants to have sex with you,” Erica says simply, and Derek nearly spits out the water he’s drinking.

It’s Friday evening; Erica, Cora, and Laura, via cell phone, are helping Derek pick out an outfit for his and Stiles’ date when Erica springs this unexpected piece of news on him.

He and Stiles have spent the last two days together with their families. Wednesday night the couple had dinner at the Hale house. Stiles cooked the leftover meatloaf and potatoes and charmed Derek’s parents with his humor and wit. The couple ate with the sheriff on Thursday evening at Stiles’ house, and Derek impressed the older man with his sports knowledge.

Tonight, however, is about them, and the basketball player is excited to spend some time alone with Stiles, but he can’t help feeling nervous when his friend brings up the intimate subject.

“Why…Why would you say that?” Derek stammers, and the two girls smirk at him.

“Because it’s true,” Cora retorts, and the young man’s face covers in horror. This is _not_ a subject he should be discussing with his baby sister.

Laura agrees, “It is.” Derek runs a hand over his face; he shouldn’t be talking about this with his older sister either.

“Oh my god,” the young man mutters. “Can we end this conversation now, please?”

“No, we can’t,” Laura says, “because Charlie’s working on a big case and left it up to me to make sure you’re prepared for this, baby brother. Check your nightstand.”

Derek scrunches his eyes shut. He doesn’t even want to think about what he’s going to find in there and yet he opens the drawer anyway. Derek pulls out a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube, and the young man’s face turns bright red.

He exclaims, “Laura!” and quickly drops the items back inside and shuts the drawer. “Stiles and I…we’re not…I mean, not to say I don’t want to, but—”

Erica cuts him off, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head against his. “Oh Derek, honey, that cute little dancer of yours is ready to rock your world but only if _you’re_ ready to let him.”

Derek bows his head, cheeks still flushed. The very idea of being with Stiles that way is enough to practically set the young man on fire. If Derek’s being honest with himself, he definitely wouldn’t be opposed to spending the night wrapped up in Stiles’ arms, but it’s possible the young dancer really just wants to watch movies with him, which would be perfectly fine too. No matter what happens tonight, Derek’s just happy he gets to be with Stiles.

Derek arrives at Stiles’ house at seven on the dot, pulling nervously at his blue Henley and clutching two bags of Chinese takeout in the other. The two condoms and bottle of lube feel heavy in his back pocket. Derek probably won’t need them, but he couldn’t deny that Laura was right; he should be prepared.

When Stiles answers the door, Derek’s fairly certain he starts drooling. The young man looks downright delectable in a soft red sweater and jeans that fit him in all the right places.

Stiles smiles at him and greets him with a soft, “Hey,” before pulling him inside and shutting the door. Derek notices the way Stiles’ gaze darkens when he gives him an onceover. “You look…really good.”

Derek swallows, mouth dry all of a sudden. “So do you.”

“And the food smells great. Can you start up the movie while I get plates and stuff?” He asks, and Derek nods in response.

He walks into the living room, placing the bags of food on the coffee table and finds the movies stacked up beside the television. Derek puts _Iron Man_ in just as Stiles returns with plates, silverware, and a six pack of soda.

Once they’ve piled their plates with fried rice, orange chicken, and beef and broccoli, Derek holds up _The Incredible Hulk_ DVD with an incredulous expression. “Stiles, you know we can’t watch this.”

Stiles disagrees, “Yes, we can. _The Incredible Hulk_ is a part of _Phase 1_ too…no matter how horrible it is.”

Derek pouts as he asks, “Can’t we just skip to _Iron Man 2_ after the first one is over? Are you really going to subject me to this?”

“Yes, I am,” the young dancer retorts. “You’re going to watch Edward Norton as Bruce Banner and you’re going to like it!”

Derek bangs his head against the back of the couch while Stiles laughs and presses the play button. The basketball player doesn’t lament being forced to watch the Mark Ruffalo-less _Incredible Hulk_ movie for long because he’s too busy enjoying the first _Iron Man_ film.

Yes, he’s watched this movie too many times that he’s lost count, and yes, he does quote Tony Stark several times but so does Stiles so Derek can’t feel too embarrassed about it. In fact, Stiles points out _Marvel_ Universe Easter eggs within the film and complains or cheers during certain scenes. He appears to be having a good time, and Derek can’t help gazing fondly at him.

Stiles is finishing up an egg roll when he notices Derek looking at him and his face turns a light shade of crimson.

“Derek, you’re staring at me,” he points out, and Derek jumps at being caught by him.

“I…I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but Stiles shakes his head.

“It’s okay. You just…look like you want to tell me something.”

Derek hesitates before blurting out, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Stiles’ eyes widen, and the basketball player elaborates, “It’s just, you asked me over here on a night when your father’s working and it kind of seemed like maybe that was your intention, for us to be alone and…have sex.”

The young man runs a hand through his hair, feeling like a complete idiot, until Stiles answers his initial question. “Yes.”

“ _What_?!” Derek shouts, and Stiles chuckles lightly at his outburst.

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on it happening _tonight_ , but, yeah, I do. You’re fun to be around and you’re gorgeous. Of course I’d want to, Derek.” Derek gapes at him, and Stiles seems nervous as he inquires, “Do you want to…with me?”

Derek feels himself nod without hesitation. “Yes, definitely.”

“Well, that’s…cool,” Stiles says in response and immediately cringes afterwards. “Did I really just say that?” Derek laughs softly and reaches over to intertwine their fingers.

Stiles appears to regain some of his confidence as he says, “ _So_ , we’re here together, _alone_ , and my dad won’t be home until morning.”

“My parents aren’t expecting me back ‘til late,” Derek reveals, and Stiles grabs the remote to turn off the movie before closing the already miniscule gap between them.

He rests his forehead against Derek’s, whispering, “ _Oh_. Well, that’s…”

“Cool?” The basketball player suggests with a smug grin, and Stiles rolls his eyes, swatting weakly at his shoulder.

“You’re an ass.”

“You _want_ my ass,” Derek counters, cheeks flushing after the statement leaves his mouth, but he doesn’t have long to feel embarrassed because Stiles crashes into him, their lips meeting in a desperately frantic kiss.

Stiles crawls into his lap to straddle him, making sure their mouths stay slotted together as he does so. When Stiles runs his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip, the basketball player’s hands move to slide under Stiles’ sweater, feeling the warm skin hidden underneath. The young dancer shivers when Derek’s fingers skim over his stomach and then plant themselves on his back, pulling him closer.

Stiles’ tongue finds Derek’s and as the kiss becomes more heated, Derek feels Stiles start to move his hips, grinding down so that their growing bulges rub together. Derek groans into his mouth, and Stiles surprises him by pulling back to grin at him.

“I can’t even…I can’t believe you thought I didn’t want you,” he says, leaning back in to suck on the skin of his neck, and Derek whines, rutting up against him. “I knew your schedule for goodness sakes!”

Stiles starts to move again, rolling his hips as he continues to mouth at his pulse point, and Derek pants, “Figured you wanted more chances to curse me out.”

Stiles huffs against his neck and bites down on the skin there, causing Derek to gasp before speaking again. “I was _way_ more obvious than you were, always finding some way to be around you, but it was torture because I thought you hated me. When I bumped into you freshmen year and you wouldn’t let me get a word in, I just knew you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Stiles lifts his head to glare at him after his revelation. “Wait a second, back up, did you say _freshmen year_? You’ve liked me since _freshmen year_?”

Derek’s gaze shifts around the room anxiously. He’s pretty sure he told Stiles at some point in the last three days that he’s had feelings for him since they were fifteen, right? But judging by the look on the young man’s face, Derek guesses he didn’t.

He avoids Stiles’ question by posing one of his own. “Did I _not_ …mention that?”

“ _No_. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered you telling me that you’ve liked me since _freshmen year_.”

“You know you don’t need to keep saying _freshmen year_ like that,” Derek points out.

“Yes, I do,” Stiles retorts, “because you’ve liked me since the beginning of high school, and you’re _just now_ doing something about it? Oh my god, Derek, you’re _such_ an idiot!”

Derek doesn’t even disagree with him, and the young dancer surges back in to capture his lips, rocking against him, until Stiles pulls away to breathe heavily. “Upstairs. We need to take this upstairs to my room; I’m not fucking you on this couch.”

Derek’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of these words, and he allows Stiles to pull him up to his feet and lead him upstairs. They trip and stumble on their way up because Stiles keeps stopping along the way to pull Derek in for another kiss.

When they finally make it to his room, Stiles guides Derek onto the bed and starts grabbing at his shirt. “I need this off like yesterday,” he comments causing Derek to grin.

Once he gets the offending piece of clothing off, Stiles pushes Derek back and straddles him again. Stiles sucks his bottom lip back into his mouth and then moves down to nip at his jawline. Derek’s gasping for breath while Stiles runs his hands over Derek’s chest and abs, appreciating his sculpted physique.

“This isn’t fair. How are you like this?” He asks, and Derek chuckles lightly.

“I eat whatever I want,” he jokes, and Stiles narrows his eyes at him before he’s leaning back in to run his tongue over one of Derek’s nipples, causing the young man to release a soft moan.

“‘I eat whatever I want’,” Stiles mocks. “Just rub it in why don’t you? You’re hotter than the sun and I’m—”

Stiles yelps when Derek flips them over so that he’s hovering over the young dancer. “Stop it,” Derek whispers against his lips before reaching down to practically rip Stiles’ sweater off to reveal the toned, pale skin underneath. His eyes glaze over as his hands caress Stiles’ chest and stomach, enjoying the young man’s sharp intakes of breath. “God, you’re—”

“In need of a serious tan,” Stiles teases, but then gasps when Derek leans in to slide his tongue down the trail of hair leading into his jeans. “ _Derek_ …”

“Perfect, you’re so perfect,” Derek murmurs before dropping down to his knees onto the floor in front of Stiles. His hands move to unbuckle the young man’s belt and drags his pants down his legs, grinning when he catches sight of his _Superman_ underwear. “ _Marvel_ in the streets and _DC_ in the sheets?”

Stiles half-shrugs in response. “I enjoy the best of both worlds.”

Derek smirks at him and then mouths at the young man through his boxers, finding the fabric damp with precome, and causing Stiles’ hips to immediately lift off the bed. “Fuck, Derek, _please_.”

Derek pulls his underwear off at this point, revealing Stiles’ cock, hard and flushed at the tip, and he wastes no time getting his mouth on it. He licks from the base to the tip, tasting a drop of precome, before taking the whole length into his mouth.

Stiles moans as Derek begins to bob his head up and down. Derek enjoys the way his hardness feels between his lips, and Stiles’ fingers twist in the sheets when he sucks at his balls, his knuckles turning white in the process.

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles pants, “your… _your mouth_ …” He drifts off, groaning when Derek deep throats him. He takes his dick so deeply into his mouth that his nose brushes against the soft patch of hair around the base, and Stiles starts to push at his shoulders.

“You gotta stop. You gotta stop; you’re gonna make me come,” the young man breathes. Derek hums a noise of dissent around him, and Stiles keens, squeezing his shoulders. He begs, “Please. _Please_. I don’t want to…not like this, want to be inside of you.”

At the sound of these words, Derek pulls off but not before running his tongue over his shaft one last time. He looks up at him, eyes slightly wide, and Stiles hastens to add, “If that’s okay. I mean, we don’t have to. We could just—”

Derek cuts him off with a soft kiss and then gets to his feet. Stiles watches hungrily as Derek unbuttons his jeans and lets them and his boxer briefs fall to the floor. Once he steps out of them, he lies down on his stomach and shoves a pillow under his hips to prop himself up, putting his ass on display for Stiles.

The young man start to babble under his breath, clearly taken aback by the sight lying before for him. “ _Holy god_ , Derek. Oh my…you’re—”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek murmurs, face buried in a pillow, and Stiles immediately stops rambling. He runs a tentative hand over his lower back and Derek can’t help shivering. “ _Please_ ,” he whispers and the basketball player knows how he sounds, desperate and needy, but at least when Stiles speaks again, he sounds the exact same way.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay. Just let me…”

Derek feels the bed shift and a moment later he releases a low whine when Stiles’ hands find their way to his ass. He kneads the flesh between his fingers, and Derek arches up into his touch.

“Tell me…Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Stiles says, tone so much deeper than normal, and Derek nods against the pillow. He spreads his cheeks and leans in, breath ghosting over him, and then swipes his tongue over the pink hole.

Derek’s whole body jolts as the surprising sensation flows through him, but Stiles must think he’s done something wrong because he pulls back to ask, “Did I…Is it okay?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he replies, sounding about as wrecked as he feels, “please just… _more_ , Stiles.”

He gasps sharply when Stiles licks him again and then starts a constant sweeping motion with his tongue, running it up and down the ring of muscle. Derek bites the pillow, letting out helpless whimpers when Stiles’ tongue breeches his entrance. He swirls it around inside, and Derek practically sobs.

Stiles pulls back suddenly, voice raspy as he says, “I need lube. There’s some in my nightstand; just let me—”

“Check my pockets; it’s closer,” Derek tells him, almost regretting it because he can feel the smugness radiating off his boyfriend.

“You brought lube and condoms, huh? You really came prepared… _to come_ ,” he jokes, chuckling softly.

Derek throws a glare at him over his shoulder but the look loses most of its effect when paired with his disheveled hair and flushed face. “Well, _I_ thought it was funny,” Stiles adds, faking offense, and Derek snorts.

“It really wasn’t though, and I’m seriously starting to question my taste in— _Stiles_ …”

Derek’s so busy talking he doesn’t hear Stiles pop open the cap on the lube, so it’s a shock to his system when he feels a slick digit circling his hole.

“What was that you were saying about questioning your taste?” Stiles asks but doesn’t give Derek a chance to answer because he slips the tip of his finger inside, and Derek gasps at the intrusion. “ _Jesus_ ,” he murmurs when Derek takes his finger in up to the second knuckle.

Stiles presses in and then withdraws, repeating the action several times before Derek’s whining for another one. “Are you sure? You’re still so… _so tight_.”

The young dancer groans, leaning in to lick around his finger, and Derek pulls at the covers. “Please, Stiles, _please_.”

Stiles pours more lube onto his fingers and works in a second one, scissoring them, and stretching out the tight pucker of his ass. When Stiles crooks those sinful fingers of his, pressing against that sweet spot inside, Derek _knows_ he’s had enough, _knows_ he’s ready.

“Stiles, _now_ , it has to be now. I can’t…” His cock is hard and heavy against his stomach, and Derek feels as though he might come right then and there.

Stiles withdraws his fingers, and Derek mourns the loss, that is until he hears the telltale sound of a wrapper being ripped open. He can’t help turning to watch Stiles slip the condom down his length and then slick himself up with lube.

The basketball player has to bury his face back in the pillow, stifling a groan when Stiles reaches down to squeeze his own balls as if he might come just from the sight of Derek bent over with his ass in the air.

“Is this…Is this your first time?” Stiles asks, voice hesitant, and Derek wonders what made him inquire about his sexual history right now when they’re already so close to sealing the deal.

Derek nods, admitting in a soft voice, “I haven’t been with anyone else; I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Stiles leans over him, placing kisses down his spine to his lower back before revealing, “It’s my first time too, and I know I haven’t had feelings for you as long as you have for me, but I think…I think I was waiting for you.”

Derek turns to capture his lips in a gentle kiss and gasps into the young man’s mouth when Stiles pushes the tip of his dick inside of him. Stiles pulls back from him, panting, and lets his forehead fall forward to rest on Derek’s back, digging his fingernails into his hips. He moves against Derek’s body, letting his shaft slowly work its way in until he bottoms out.

“Don’t move,” he warns, taking deep breaths, attempting to steady himself. “If you do, this is going to be over before it even starts.”

“I don’t care. I don’t even care. Just _fuck_ me, Stiles. I need you,” Derek pleads, pushing back against Stiles, causing the young man to curse softly.

“ _Fuck_. Okay, all right, I got you, Derek. I got you.” Stiles starts off slowly, pulling out and thrusting back in at a measured pace. It’s complete torture for Derek between the way Stiles circles his hips at the end of each thrust and his hitched breath every time his cock slides home.

“ _Please_ ,” he whimpers, his voice breaking on the one word, and Stiles grunts, surprising Derek when he reaches around to wrap an arm around his waist.

Stiles hauls the basketball player up and rearranges them so that he’s sitting back on his heels and Derek's seated on his cock. He pulls Derek tight against his chest and starts rocking his hips upwards, fucking the young man earnestly.

“Is this better? Is this what you want?” The young dancer asks through gritted teeth, his pace quickening, balls slapping obscenely against his ass, and Derek nods, his head falling back onto his shoulder.

“ _Yes_. Stiles, oh my god, _Stiles_ , _right there_ …”

The angle is doing wonders for Derek as every one of Stiles’ thrusts hits his prostate, and his cock is practically dripping at this point.

His ass clenches around Stiles, and the young man’s hips start to stutter frenetically. “Shit, _Derek_ , you feel so good, not gonna last much longer. I need you to come, need to make you come.”

Stiles wraps his long fingers around Derek and starts to stroke his cock in time with his thrusts. He runs his thumb over the tip and then reaches down to fondle his balls. When Stiles leans in to suck at the salty skin of his neck, it’s a wrap for Derek.

“Fuck, Stiles, _fuck_!” He groans loudly, spurting long strands of come all over Stiles’ hand and sheets.

His ass spasms around Stiles’ cock and the tight, wet heat is what pushes the young dancer over the edge. Stiles murmurs Derek’s name into his shoulder, hips jerking erratically as he releases inside of him. Derek shivers against him while Stiles mouths at his neck and jaw, whispering words of love and praise.

Once the young couple is immersed in the afterglow of their lovemaking, lying together wrapped up in each other’s arms, Stiles chuckles. “So, _freshmen year_ , huh?”

“Oh my god,” Derek mutters. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“ _Nope_. We wasted so much time; we’ve could’ve been together like this for so long.” Stiles’ lips glide over the back of his neck before Derek turns to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers. “I was…intimidated.”

“ _By me_?” Stiles questions in shock, and when the basketball player nods, Stiles practically jumps him, pressing their mouths together in a slow kiss. “You know _you’r_ e the ridiculous one, right?” He asks, and Derek agrees.

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he says, and Stiles smiles, leaning in to press their foreheads together.

“I love you too.”

Derek sighs contently, knowing that he’d be more than happy spending the rest of his life by Stiles' side.

 

_Four months later_

 

Derek watches Stiles pace around the backstage area with a concerned expression. Two months ago Spin Cycle won their regionals and now here they are in Los Angeles competing against the best dance squads in the nation and the young man is, understandably, anxious about their performance.

Their group is next to go on and while their friends are talking and going over last-minute choreography, Stiles is a nervous wreck.

Derek steps in front of him, taking hold of his arms to keep him in place. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Stiles whispers back. “Is it bad to admit that I wasn’t sure we’d make it here?” He inquires, and Derek laughs softly, nodding.

“It _kind of_ is when you’re the captain of the team.” Stiles buries his face in his shoulder, groaning softly, and Derek runs a hand over his back. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

Stiles lifts his head to say, “I know, but there’s so much riding on this. We got a reprieve after we won regionals, but if we don’t place here this could be it. Spin Cycle might be done for good. And I know your dad said he would help but—”

“I don’t think it’s going to come to that; you know why?” Stiles waits for Derek to elaborate, and the young man places a hand on his cheek as he says, “Because our team is unbelievably talented, _and_ we have a brilliant leader.”

He smiles at Derek’s words. “Well, when you put it _like that_ , how could we possibly lose?”

The couple hugs just as an announcement is made over the loud speaker, letting Spin Cycle know they’re needed on stage. Stiles gathers up his team and once they’re circled around him, he looks between them all as he says, “Whatever happens, I love each and every one of you.”

His gaze stays on Derek for longer than the others, and the basketball player feels his heart swell at the adoring expression on his face.

“Aww, Stiles, we feel the same way, bro” Scott says, wrapping an arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

“Not all of us,” Danny and Isaac say together, hi-fiving each other afterwards, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just go out and win this thing.”

The group cheers before running out to take their places on stage. Derek glances over at Stiles and gives him a reassuring smile which he returns with a grin. The music starts up, Lorde’s _Team_ , and Derek and Stiles take the lead on the dance. They feed off each other well; Stiles’ moves are more methodical while Derek puts his own twist on the choreography but somehow it works.

When the song ends, the crowd breaks into cheers and applause. After they get off stage, the group congratulates each other on a great performance, but Stiles still watches the other dance teams anxiously, trying to gauge the judges’ reaction to them.

“It’s going to be okay,” Derek tells him, intertwining their fingers right before the announcement of the winner.

Stiles agrees, "I know.  Because I have you." 

The pair smiles warmly at each other, and the rest of the team join hands with them.  They all wait nervously as each place is announced. “ _Second runner-up, Spin Cycle from Beacon Hills High School_!”

The group explodes, shouting and clapping, as they’re handed their trophy, and Stiles surprises Derek, and almost every other person in the room, when he plants a kiss on his lips.

Their friends are cheering for the couple along with celebrating their third place finish. Sure, they didn’t win nationals, but Spin Cycle will live to see another day, and Stiles and Derek got something so much better in return, a chance to find their rhythm and fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this story. Thank you so much for reading it and taking the time to leave kudos and comments.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr at samann98.tumblr.com! I generally post Teen Wolf with some other fandoms mixed in.


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